Living History
by Lizbeth Marcs
Summary: COMPLETE! Some people have come a place far, far away and a time far, far ahead to ask for help on an urgent matter. The target place and time? Moscow, February 2008. The problem? They’re in Cleveland, September 2003. And that’s just the beginning of the
1. I'm A Stranger Here Myself

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Summary: Some people have come a place far, far away and a time far, far ahead to ask for help on an urgent matter. The time? February 2008. The place? Moscow. The problem? They're in Cleveland, September 2003. And that's just the beginning of the trouble…

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Pairing: Kinda, sorta, depends on how hard you squint. Mostly friendship/adventure/humor rule the day.

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Author's Note: This is based on a challenge issued by Uncle Rand on the XanderZone list, so you know, right away, that it's Xander-centric. Beyond that I'm not telling.

The key points of the challenge:

Set immediately after _Chosen_

A group of people come from the future via a spell to seek help in saving the world of the future

They're awestruck at meeting Xander, but may or may not know who the other Scoobs are.

No B/X or W/X. If you must have a pairing, keep to either F/X or D/X.

No incredible inventions from the future capable of killing vampires from a distance.

(Optional) Xander has a choice to stay with the present-day Scoobs or leave with the future group.

Sadly, I may have stuck to the letter of the challenge (with a few letters out of place), but most definitely not the intent.

Warning: This is a WiP and may take a blasted long time to finish because I'm using it to clear my head when I run into a wall on the _Where Fools Go_ series. End result, it may take a bit to reach the end. No worries, though, I already have the plot in hand.

Disclaimer: Is this necessary? I own nothing. ME/Fox owns everything. Deal.

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Feedback: As always, thoughtful feedback is welcomed. Since this is a WiP that may take a looooong time to finish, I look forward to seeing what people have to say.

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Archiving: On XanderZone is automatically granted since the challenge came from there. Everyone else please ask.

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Living History

By Lizbeth Marcs

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When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.

--Hunter S. Thomson

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Part 1: I'm A Stranger Here Myself

A low moan issued from the pile of bodies in the alley.

There was some reflexive twitching and tics in the pile.

"Whose elbow is in my eye?" an irate female voice asked.

"Better not be the same person whose foot is firmly placed on my wedding tackle," a decidedly British male voice spat.

"Was it supposed to be like this?" a second female voice whined. "I don't remember anyone saying…"

"Enough!" A third female voice ordered.

There was some movement amongst the bodies and a tall, brunette woman emerged. The mouth, which always seemed ready to burst into a sunshine grin, was turned down into an uncharacteristic frown. She glanced around the alley with distaste, as if not sure she wanted to believe her nose.

"J'Nal," she snapped. "Get your astra over here."

"My head," the British male voice complained.

"Suck it up. We don't have time for this horsha."

A male crawled out from under the pile and, staying firmly on hands and knees, wormed his way to the woman's side. She sighed and hauled him to his feet, supporting him as he wavered unsteadily back and forth.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Gimmie a moment," J'Nal complained. "The spell is still…"

The woman sighed and in a softer voice urged, "Look, I know the portal spell took a lot out of you, but you have to get your bearings. You know the rules: if we're not in the right time or place, we have to zip out of here **before **we interact with someone from this time period. The minute a human sees us or we do anything that might affect anyone, it's too late and we have to make do or go home empty-handed."

"I know, I know." J'Nal sounded apologetic. He peered around with eyes narrowed to slits, a sure sign he had a screaming headache to end all headaches. "Well, I **can **tell you that we're nowhere near a warm climate."

"Oh?" The woman shoved her unruly hair out of her eyes in an aggravated move. Somewhere along the way she lost her customary barrette to tie her mane back and the resulting trip across time and space had caused it to take on a Medusa-like life of its own. Wind tugged at and tussled with the strands, making the image complete.

"The wind, plus the fact that it's cold, means that we're definitely not in what the Taras call 'La-La Land.'"

"But are we on Tara?" the woman hissed.

"I'd guess so," a second male voice said from behind them. J'Nal and the woman turned around to see a slight girl with long jet black hair bearing the insignia of a Faithist help the speaker to his feet. "This construction just screams Tara architecture," he added.

The woman snorted. "Looks like a blank brick wall to me. Get knocked unconscious in enough alleys and they all start to look alike."

The second male held up a scanner, touching the screen at different points. "Spectrometer indicates that the gases infused with the brick match perfectly with early twenty-first century Tara."

The woman, who was clearly in charge, let her face relax. "Well, at least we're in the right timeframe then. The question is, are we in the right place and the right year?"

"Aren't you being a leeeeetle overcautious?" the third woman whined as she crawled to her feet.

"Catherine, why did we have to bring her along?" the Faithist asked.

"Ruda, I know you're not in love with the idea of the press…" Catherine began with another ineffectual swipe at her hair.

"Hey, what the Slayer Corps does is infor and **this **is infor," the third woman had her hands on her hips, sharing her angry glare between Slayer Ruda and Watcher Honoria Catherine. "I came along to get a story and **this **is the story of the century. Hell, the brass at UNS is willing to pay my bar bill, so that **has **to tell you something."

"Calm down Ms. Tikri, no one is going to rob you of your story. You're here, so by definition you have an exclusive," Catherine soothed, fighting hard not to roll her eyes. "But we need to make sure that we're," here she reverently pulled out a small book and gently rubbed the surface, "in Moscow during 2008."

"Well, that I can't tell you until we get a look around," J'Nal said. "The spell can't be exact on the first try."

"Well, we're in the right time period, so there is that," said the scanner-bearing man. "I have to check everyone's translation implants, make sure we have both twenty-first century Russian and English programmed properly."

"Do it," Catherine ordered with a nod.

Scanner man, known as Charlie to the rest of the group, went to everyone in turn, checking the slim metal disc fitted behind everyone's left ear. On unspoken agreement, Catherine was left last, mostly because her standing orders were thus: the Slayer first; witch second; medic, meaning himself, third. Ms. Tikri got attention before Catherine herself simply because, in this working band, the Watcher Honoria always went last, whether it was for basic equipment checks or urgent medical treatment.

Once he was finished, Charlie nodded happily. "Rodger, dodger old codger. Good to go."

"Old codger?" Catherine's face exploded into a grin. "You need vision correction."

"Look out!" Ruda's voice snapped through the alley.

The others looked up, eyes wide. "Oh futch," Catherine muttered before shouting. "Ruda! Leave the hostile. Leave the hostile!"

Too late. Said hostile—known as a vampire to you and I—launched itself at Ruda with a hiss. Too fast for the eye to move, Ruda's sword was out and flashing through the dark, beheading her attacker in a single smooth swipe. The creature exploded into dust.

There was overwhelming silence in the alley, broken by a single word from Ruda. "Oooops."

"A common, garden-variety vampire," Charlie smiled. "Wish I had the opportunity for a closer look."

"You have got to be jossing me," Ms. Tikri said. "Those things are pests. Better to kill 'em now before they have a chance to make more."

"Yes, but this is a **Tara **vampire," Charlie explained, "the original of its kind. That makes all the difference…"

"Charlie," Catherine warned as she fingered the tiny pin bearing the symbol of the Watchers Honoria intertwined with her own family crest. She turned towards the alley's entrance, teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Well, wherever and whenever we are, we are now here to stay."

TBC


	2. Who Says Only Angel Is Allowed To Brood?

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Part 2: Who Says Only Angel Is Allowed To Brood?

Xander sat on the stoop, head resting on his hands as he surveyed the empty street. September was coming with a vengeance and his newly transplanted California blood was **already **freezing in his veins.

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Why the fuck am I even here? he wondered. _I've done nothing but fix things and prop up people since we fucking got here. If I'm going to be reduced to handyman and all-around security blanket, I damn well can do it where the weather's warmer._

He ran his hands through his hair, momentarily hesitating at the halfway point before allowing himself to continue to the nape of his neck. He'd gotten the glass eye a month ago, but he could still feel the ghost of the eye patch band in his hair and the patch itself on its skin. Some residual part of him still worried about dislodging a protective covering he no longer had.

He was being unfair to the others and he knew it. He **had **been included in a lot of the Slayage side of the business, maybe more than he'd been since before senior year. Robin was making everyone in their merry band go through formal fight training, **including **one very normal human who spent a lot of time on his ass when hanging out on the practice mats. 

Giles had been pulling him in to help with research and relying on him to help deal with all the contractors needed to whip their new headquarters into shape. Buffy was insistent that Xander be part of the regular Slayage and patrol rotation. Although Buffy had taken a step back from a lot of her former self-imposed responsibilities, she forcefully pointed out to Robin that Xander had seven years' worth of field experience that should be put to good use, whether the Woodster thought he was combat-ready or not.

Willow didn't involve him in the actual use of magic, mostly because Xander and magic were not two mix-y things. However, she was quick to grab him for help in research—there's the dirty word again—and for help in gathering supplies.

It seemed like the handful of baby Slayers with them had all decided he was the most approachable of the "in crowd"—being the only normal human around—and were constantly asking him for help, a shoulder to cry on, or advice on this, that, or the other thing. Usually it boiled down to the fact that they were uncomfortable approaching Buffy, Faith, Willow, Robin, or Giles with problems they were afraid might get dismissed as stupid. Xander, on the other hand, seemed always ready to lend a sympathetic ear.

Dawn, thankfully, wasn't yanking him in a new direction as she had managed to settle in and adapt to their new locale faster than anyone else. With the beginning of school, Dawn's educational and social life had notched up to insane levels, no doubt because her California roots made her cool in the eyes of the locals. She was rarely around before 10 p.m. curfew, and when she was back at the compound she was all chattery about boys, school, boys, homework, boys, school trip, oh, and before he forgot, boys.

Xander's stock seemed to be going up in the world, at least among this particular group, but some corner of his mind wondered if there was a more well-meaning but sinister purpose: keep Xander busy and can keep his mind off his troubles. If that was the goal, they were failing miserably, not that Xander was inclined to disabuse them of the notion. 

He could never admit it to them, but he had to, for once, be honest with himself. He'd **lost **something. Once the adrenalin high of surviving Sunnydale retreated, he felt dead inside, utterly incapable of thinking beyond the next step. Frankly, he was exhausted. Every day an ever-larger part of him just wanted to walk away from the weird world and go hide in a nice, normal life in some sunshine state. 

In short, he just didn't want to care any more. 

"Behind you."

Xander looked up and saw Faith standing at the top of the stoop. The Slayer grinned when she was certain she was out of Xander's blind spot. "Mind if I sit?"

Xander waved at the empty spot next to him.

She hopped down—making sure to keep to his right where he could see her—to the place he indicated and sat with a plop. She drew out a pack of Camels and a lighter. "Mind?" she asked.

Xander shrugged.

She lit up and drew deeply, releasing the stream of smoke with a relieved sigh. 

"Buffy still on ya to quit?" he asked. He actually didn't care. He just was making with the small talk since it was better than sitting in silence.

"Shit, yeah. You should hear Robin bitch, too. They don't get tobacco is fucking evil." Faith drew hard, causing the tip to glow brightly, possibly as an illustration of her point. 

"Yeah, Slayer healing or no, I can't imagine that's helping." There wasn't a whole lot of heat or condemnation in his tone.

"Yo! I've cut back," Faith protested with a smile. "Down to less than a pack a day. Gotta take it slow. Last thing you need is a Slayer-sized nicotine fit on your hands."

"Guess not," Xander agreed with a tight smile.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Had anyone familiar with the pair been watching, they would've put the smart money on Xander breaking first. They would've lost.

"So what is your deal?" Faith asked.

"Deal?"

The Slayer waved her cigarette up and down at him, as if dousing him tobacco-flavored incense. "You. You've been living in a different universe since we muscled our way into this town. S'up with that?"

"Faith," Xander gritted. "Last I checked, I've been yanked in a million different directions sinceI **got **here. Sorry if you **think **I've been distracted, but the reality is that I'm a little busy."

"Not saying that," Faith stated with another drag. "When people try to have a real personal conversation with you, you start talkin' business just to change the subject."

"Like I said…"

"Bullshit," Faith stated. "Your head ain't here and that's asking for trouble with a capital T, for you and for us."

Xander stood in a sudden motion. He wished he could say he was enraged or even a little angry. He wished he could say he felt any damn thing. However, standard operating procedure indicated that he should get indignant, so he put on the show everyone would expect. "Sorry I don't come up to the level of Woodman…"

"Hey, that's not what I…"

"…but not all of us can be the perfect demon-hunter guy like your sweet baboo…"

"Sweet baboo? What are you, _Peanuts_?"

"…I'm just Xander and I'm doing the fucking best I can while everyone decides they fucking need my ass involved in every aspect of this fine new Slayerish world we live in..."

"Not saying you're not doing the best you…"

"…but most days I feel like I should ask Willow to make three of me so I can handle everything…"

"Maybe you need a vacay," Faith commented. "Maybe get the old juices recharged and give yourself time to heal."

"Or maybe I just need for people to stop worrying how I'm doing and leave me the hell alone," Xander growled. He spun into the house, legitimately annoyed, not much, but a little. "Enjoy your smoke," he shot over his shoulder before he disappeared into the house.

Faith held her cigarette like a match, as if blaming it for the direction the conversation took. "Well, I think that went **really** well." 

TBC…


	3. Should’ve Taken That Left At Albuquerque

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Part 3: Should've Taken That Left At Albuquerque

Ruda leaned forward in the tree, her eyes shining, a beatific smile on her face. She was simply lost in the moment. True, she couldn't **hear **the conversation, but she could **see **them. It should be enough considering the mess they were in, but it wasn't.

"Ruda?" Catherine stage-whispered from below.

The Slayer looked down, her smile growing broader. Her Watcher Honoria would never admit it, but this had to be as exciting and as nerve-wracking for Catherine as it was for her. Ruda, after all, was just an adherent. Catherine had the bloodline, not that it seemed to make a difference to her.

"You saw one of them," Catherine stated calmly.

"Both," Ruda slithered down the tree. "They were talking, so maybe we got lucky."

"Not so much," Catherine said in an undertone. She jerked her head in the direction of J'Nal and Charlie. "They managed to dig a newsie from a disposal. We're not in Moscow."

"Where are we?"

Catherine answered with a sigh. "Cleveland 2003."

Ruda blinked. "Did I mention that I was **really **sorry?"

Catherine clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to say that everything's peachy, but that hostile wasn't going to go away if we asked nicely. Chances are, we would've been stuck no matter what, so stop kicking yourself. We've got bigger problems."

"We have to go home empty-handed," Ruda glumly said.

"Like hada we are," Ms. Tikri said, "do you know what this **means**? We're at the beginning! Where it all began! We can ask questions, we can get the straight dope, we can get answers! We get the story that you just can't find in the historical record."

"Or we can leave these people in peace," Catherine stated. "They have their lives to live and right now they're under a lot of pressure. The **last **thing they need is for us to dump our troubles on their doorstep."

"Our troubles are pretty big," Charlie said, trotting up to the knot of women. "Besides, last I checked, they were pretty resourceful, so maybe they **can **help."

"They can't," J'Nal flatly stated, his face appearing over Charlie's shoulder. "We know what the historical record says. They were approached for help in Moscow 2008."

"Except we know that's not possible," Charlie protested. "You said yourself that the moment we interfered or interacted on even the tiniest levels, we couldn't just insert ourselves at any other point in the time stream because of the Domino Effect."

"That's right," J'Nal said tightly.

"Yet, Catherine's family records and the Council Honoria's archives are pretty clear: we as a group spoke to them in Moscow 2008." Charlie crossed his arms. "So we **had **to interact with them at some point. It was written and it was done."

Catherine sighed. "We were not named as individuals. It could've been another team that approached them."

"C'mon, Catherine. How many times have you read that entry? How many times has the **Council Honoria **read that entry? Hada, they even sent it to the Council Educationary for a second opinion, and you know what the relationship between the two can be like," Charlie insisted. "You and I both know that there are enough clues that point to every single one of us here."

"What?" Ms. Tikri exclaimed. "Are you telling me…"

"That we had another reason for inviting you." Catherine winced. She was hoping to keep it a secret. This mission was falling apart faster than callin in water.

"Are you telling me that I'm futching **part **of the story?" Ms. Tikri sounded enraged. "You know that goes against every witnesser principle there is! We do **not **take sides and we do **not **get involved! We observe!"

"And if someone kept their mouth shut, that's all you'd've been doing," Ruda glared at the medic.

"Besides, it's too late now," Catherine added. "You're as stuck as the rest of us. No one's asking you to make a real contribution…"

This comment got a round of appreciative chuckles and a glare from Ms. Tikri.

"…but we are right now in a bit of mess and we have to figure out what to do."

"Well, since we're now rooted here, we're stuck for at least a week before I can even attempt to spell us home," J'Nal said.

"And **they **are here," Ruda's voice had a near-pleading tone. "I want to talk to them. I want to really see them. Catherine, tell me you don't want the same thing."

"And they are resourceful. Maybe they can help us," Charlie mused. "Maybe the place and year don't really matter."

"My bosses are gonna kick my astra if I present them with a bar bill and no futching story," Ms. Tikri mumbled.

"What about your principles?" Charlie asked with amusement.

"On hiatus until I get home," the witnesser replied.

Everyone in the group fell silent, waiting for Catherine to render her opinion. She bit her lip, looking around her group. They were ill equipped to survive on Tara in the ancient past, at least not without help. In the end, concern for the people under her care won out over her instinct to keep to the original timeline intact.

She had a feeling she was going to be sorry.

"We go with Charlie's plan," she said with more assurance than she really felt. "Problem is, we can't just walk right up, ring the front doorbell, and ask to speak to Mr. Harris or Ms. Lanoire."

"So what are we gonna do then?" J'Nal asked.

Catherine smiled. "**You **are gonna put on a sound and light show."

TBC…


	4. HalfBaked Cookie Dough Issues

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Part 4: Half-Baked Cookie Dough Issues

Xander sat and stared at the book's contents, letting the murmur of planning and consultation wash around him. He'd read the same paragraph ten times and he still couldn't quite absorb the context. He glanced up at the clock, some second-hand Salvation Army special that Buffy had unearthed, and sighed. Not even 9 o'clock. 

"Robin, I really think you may be overworking yourself," Giles said. "Between your job teaching science at the middle school and your training schedule, you'll burn yourself out. You might want to cut back to every other day, or at the very least let Faith and Buffy take over part of the schedule as teachers."

"I'd feel more comfortable if I could supervise," Robin insisted. 

"You mean if you were in control," Xander muttered.

All voices stopped and a certain ex-Sunnydaler just knew he spoke a little louder than he intended. He looked up to see Giles and Robin looking at him with open mouths. Hell, he might as well go for broke.

"You can be a bit control freaky," Xander calmly stated. "Lately it seems everyone has to do things your way and you pitch a fit if someone has the gall to tell you to take a chill pill."

"Where is this coming from?" Robin demanded. 

  
Giles was busy hiding a smile while he polished his glasses with an intensity of someone who planned on keeping his big mouth shut.

"Where it's coming from is **you **insisting that training schedule be like it is, **you **creating the chore schedule, **you **deciding who should 'specialize' in what tasks, **you **insisting that **only you **could possibly tell everyone where their bedroom is located and dictating everyone's roommate…" Xander ticked the points off on his fingers.

"You're just pissed because you have to put up with Andrew," Robin said.

"Not a happy situation there, no," Xander allowed. "But I noticed you get a co-habitory-type roommate while no one else will ever get the opportunity unless they plan to move out and pay rent on non-existent salaries."

"I don't see **you **involved with anyone. Unless there's a special little lady you want to steal from the cradle. Like to discuss it with…"

Xander stood up so quickly that the harsh scrape of the chair drowned out whatever Robin was about to say. "My sex life, or anyone else's, is **not **the point. The **point **is you're going all Al Haig on us. Yes, we **needed **that in the beginning because, really, no one was in any condition to be the Mr. Big when you stepped in. But right now? It's getting on my fucking nerves."

"So, who do you think should be in charge? You?"

Xander gritted his teeth. "Let's make that a no-fucking-way. I don't **want **to be in charge. I don't **need **the goddamn headache. But I am sick and tired of the shit running downhill. We are **not **a goddamn army; we are a house full of very, very tired people who've been running our collective asses off since Sunnydale turned into the Grand Canyon."

"So are you saying we should kick back? Rest on our laurels? We saved the world so we should take it easy?" Robin waved at the window. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we got a world full of new Slayers to find and Watchers to recruit and we are nowhere near ready."

"And you pushing and shoving until we're all sick and tired of the sound of your voice is going to make it sooooo much better." Xander stepped forward, fists clenched. 

"Now, I think we need to calm down." Finally Giles was getting involved. He turned to Robin. "Xander makes an excellent point. Several good ones, actually. Perhaps we **all **need to take a step back and review our roles within the group, maybe take a look at our numerous problematic scheduling issues, and rethink."

"There's nothing wrong with our schedule," Robin said, glare not leaving Xander.

"Correction. There's nothing wrong with our Slaying and patrol schedule," Xander said. "And that's only because Buffy and Faith were the ones in charge of that."

"With your help," Robin said in a sarcastic tone.

"I don't know if you noticed, but I **was **a tie-wearing type boss at my last job and I know how to put together a work schedule."

"Of a **construction crew**," Robin pointed out. "How is that like demon-hunting again?"

"Lemmie grab a hammer and nails and I'll demonstrate on you," Xander spat.

"ENOUGH!" Giles shouted. "This is quite enough. We are all tired and we could all do with a rest. Robin, you and I will speak tomorrow."

Robin looked up at the clock. "Faith and I have plans for a late dinner tonight anyway. G'night, Giles." It goes without saying that he left without giving Xander the same courtesy.

A female voice spoke up. "Well, that was fun for the whole family."

Giles and Xander looked in the direction of the voice, only to see Buffy emerge from the mostly empty shelves. "I was coming to say goodnight and caught the floorshow," she explained with a shrug. 

"I lost my temper," Xander said.

"Hmmm, was waiting for **someone **to snap," Buffy said thoughtfully. "Although I think you might have some Buffy issues mixed in there. Not that I blame you since I was all paranoid-y, General Patton-y back in the bad old days."

Xander took a step back while Giles blinked in surprise.

"Don't everyone disagree with me all at once," she sighed as she plopped into a chair. 

"Gimme a minute." Xander inwardly cringed that his reflexive comfortador personality was taking over. "I'm working on a good comeback."

"Just that you've lost it somewhere to your left?" Buffy asked. 

"Buffy…" Giles began.

"The truth is an ugly thing," Buffy slumped lower in her chair. "I've had an awful lot of time to do the thinking thing instead of the knee-jerk reaction thing. Let me tell you, my reflecting time hasn't resulted in a pretty face in the mirror. I'm thinking I should change my hairstyle or something just so I can pretend I'm not me."

"Well, that certainly explains why you weren't going out of your way to assert your authority over Robin," Giles said.

Buffy shrugged. "Authority? I don't know if you noticed, me not being the one-and-only anymore…"

"Except for Kendra. And Faith," Xander interrupted.

"Except for Kendra who died an ugly death and Faith who was in jail," Buffy corrected. "I don't know. I feel like I've lost my bearings. I'm totally rudderless girl." She grinned at Xander. "I envy you, you know. At least you know how to do stuff."

"I'm an expert at fixing windows." Xander gave a mock bow while his stomach knotted.

"Which is more than I can do," Buffy sighed. "You know? My resume is way too thin. Doublemeat Palace. One summer as a waitress in L.A. One year of college. Not even a full year as a peer councilor at a high school that doesn't even exist anymore. Potential employers are not impressed."

"Ahhh, your confidence will be back up to its ol' Summers-time level in no time," Xander said. "In the meantime, someone needs to sit on Robin before I commit murder."

"As you so diplomatically put it," Giles dryly said.

"Okay, okay, sorry I put it that way, but not sorry I **said **it." Xander shoved his hands in his pockets. "Can someone please tell me how in hell he hooked up with Faith? And **why **Faith hasn't killed him yet?"

"Maybe she likes it tough," Buffy giggled. When Xander shot her a sidewise glance, she cringed. "I'm thinking I need duct tape. It'll keep me from saying things like words."

"Must be twu wuv," Xander said.

"Love makes you do the wacky," Buffy agreed. "But even still, I think he's beginning to drive Faith up the wall. I can always tell when the two of them have a fight because she goes all Dirty Harry on whatever nasty gets in her way."

"Speaking of which, how are you doing what with the Spike-related guilt?" Xander asked in a desperate attempt to get away from any more discussion about Faith and especially Robin.

Buffy gave him a small smile. "Probably about as well as you and your Anya-related guilt. You usually don't explode like that until all your buttons are well and truly pushed."

"Harris temper," Xander uncomfortably dismissed.

"Which means we need a group hug and a vow never to tell each other nasty truths again," Buffy joked in a tone that indicated that there was more than a little truth to her statement.

Xander was working on a comeback when the big boom happened.

TBC…


	5. The Invasion Blueprint Was 'Plan 9 From ...

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Part 5: The Invasion Blueprint Was _Plan 9 From Outer Space_

The first hint something was wrong was a bright light. Somehow, don't ask him how, Xander managed to dive for the closest person, in this case one Buffy Summers, and drag her from her chair to the ground.

Step two was something that sounded like a thunderclap followed by a shockwave that pressed all three of the room's occupants to the ground.

Buffy was, naturally, the first on her feet, while Xander and Giles grabbed on to the closest chair and dragged themselves upright. 

"What just…" Xander began. He stopped and regarded the odd assortment of people tangled in a heap in the center in the room.

"I'm really getting sick of this," a female voice whined.

"Why is it I always get the foot in my waist packet? Why?" a British male voice complained.

"I can't see! Did we make it?" a youngish female voice asked.

"Anyone hurt?" a male voice asked.

"Only any hope of impressing them. No worries," a female voice assured everyone.

"Ummm, they kinda look human," Buffy said.

"I think they shop from the dark side of the _Twilight Zone _though," Xander said. "What the hell just happened?"

"My guess is a dimensional portal." Giles's glasses were askew as he desperately rubbed his temples. "Ahhh, yes. I can tell summer vacation is at an end. I've been conked on the head good and proper."

"I **understood **that." A head belonging to a brunette female popped out of the pile. She spotted the three of them and grinned. "And I just heard the concussed battle cry for Watcher Honorias everywhere. Alexander Lavelle Harris I presume?"

Buffy and Giles jerked their heads around to face one very confused looking young man. 

"Lavelle?" Buffy asked.

"Ummm, I'm Xander, I mean, Alexander Harris," the guy in question volunteered. "I didn't get the head injury. Giles did."

"Lavelle?" Buffy insisted.

The brunette female's grin disappeared, as if upset the wrong man got injured. "Oh. Unh. Hi! 'Scuse me." She struggled to pull free from the group. "Heh. You're probably wondering, ummm, about my team here." She tripped and fell flat on her face.

"Lavelle," Buffy commented with a puzzled frown.

"Enough with the middle name already," Xander hissed.

"Well, you certainly seem to be…" Giles stuggled for the right word.

"Futched up?" a man volunteered as he yanked free of the group, metallic object clutched firmly in his hand. He bent over the brunette woman as she struggled to her feet, but she slapped him away and jerked her head to the rest of the moaning people.

Buffy, Giles, and Xander exchanged glances. 

"I'm not going to ask," Xander said. When Buffy and Giles raised their eyebrows, he added, "Aww, hell. Yes I am. 'Futched'?"

A youngish girl with long black hair and shining dark eyes exploded out of the group and ran a few steps before stopping short. "Wow!" she exclaimed with glee. "Wow! Wow! Wow!" She turned to the confused trio. "Is Faith here, too? Can I see her? Can I see her?"

"Well, let me see, we have a group of very, very…" Buffy's voice trailed off. "Well, people here asking for you and Faith. By name." She looked at Xander, amusement twitching her lips. "Friends of yours?"

"There is an explanation for this. Really, there is," the brunette woman said as she finally got to her feet. She grinned a please-don't-kill me smile. "And as soon as I make sure my people are…ummm…" She leaned aback and whispered to a man holding his head, "What's the word again?"

"Ookee," the consultant gritted back.

"Right. As soon as I make sure my people are ookee, I'll be able to think of something that actually resembles sense in a way that it's probably not going to make any sense whatsoever…" her voice trailed off. She looked back at the hyper young girl backed by a grumbling group struggling to find its feet. She looked forward to the speechless, stunned people in front of her and smiled a very weak smile. "Ummm, I've seen vids from ancient Tara, for training purposes, you know? So I think at this point I either say, 'We come in peace' or 'Take us to your leader.' Does any of that make sense to you?"

"Great. Just great," Xander folded his arms. "We're being invaded. Only **we **attract the gang who can't shoot straight."

"Thank god," Buffy said. "I don't think I could handle a guest spot in a serious episode of _The X-Files_."

The young girl walked slowly up to the native trio, stopping short when she sensed Buffy tense. She tilted her head, as if trying to figure the three of them out. "You know, Harris-rah-sen, sir, no offense or anything but, well, I've seen likenesses of you and, well, I guess going by those I **thought **you'd be taller."

TBC…


	6. OutScoobying the Scoobies

****

Part 6: Out-Scoobying the Scoobies

This, Faith decided, was shaping up to the weirdest night of her life.

It started normal enough: two vampire stakings; a patrol-like stroll around town with Vi and Rona; a random incident involving a mischievous gremlin; and back to the compound for a late dinner with Robin. Things started falling apart when she trundled up to the main entrance and found a muttering, furious Robin on the stoop complaining about Xander's attitude.

Any last hope of normalcy got blown of the water by the sound and light show.

Which brings her to the here and now.

The Cleveland crew¾ which numbered almost two dozen people¾ was stationed around the perimeter of the library. Half appeared amused, half appeared worried, all of them had no idea what to make of the visitors clumped together in the middle of the future home of the library and resource center.

"Everyone is here," Giles announced. "Andrew? Do settle down."

"Can't help it. This is soooo exciting," Andrew enthused as he fiddled with his ever-present camcorder.

"I really don't feel comfortable…" the woman began.

"Tough," Buffy stated as she crossed her arms.

Faith could swear she heard the kid next to the speaking woman snarl. Probably not her imagination since she saw Buffy's eyes widen as the brunette female placed a calming hand on the girl's shoulder. The older female bent down and whispered in the girl's ear in a tone that was too low-pitched for Faith to hear. The kid slumped her shoulders and nodded.

The woman straightened and tilted her head in a show of respect. "My apologies Summers-rah. Ruda can be very protective. She promises to be civil from now on since no one is here to pick a fight."

"Ummm, just Summers, not Summersra," Buffy stuttered.

"-Rah is a title," said the man bearing a thing metal thing that flashed a profusion of lights.

"Charlie," the woman warned.

"Ra," Willow muttered. Her eyes opened wide. "Do you mean –rah?"

"That's what he said," the Ruda kid said with a puzzled frown.

"Guys, we really can't get sidetracked into…" the woman began.

"_Watership Down_!" Willow interrupted with a shout.

"Water-wha? Wha?" said a second woman wearing a red pants-suit number that might be considered sleekly chic among the Paris crowd, provided the Paris crowd was now basing its designs on patterns created by designers living on Uranus.

"Too late," the brunette woman sighed.

"_Watership Down_. It's a book," Willow quickly explained. She turned to Xander. "You remember, right? Ninth grade summer reading?"

Xander brow crinkled in thought. "Is that the one about those weird rabbits? The one Anya tried to kill when she saw the cover in a bookstore? I kinda remember that because I had to read the actual book since I couldn't find the Cliff Notes."

"What's a rabbits?" Ruda asked as she bounced over to Xander with excitement. "Oh, and what's a klif notes?"

"Is anyone listening to me?" the brunette woman asked, knowing she was heading into rhetorical question territory. "Or am I talking to myself? I know. I'm just flapping my gums at the air. Don't anyone pay me any mind. I'll just prop myself up in the corner over there and you can call me when you find a lexicon."

"Oh, sorry, I had a wa-wa moment," Willow explained.

"Don't anyone **dare **ask," the woman warned her crew. "Next one who interrupts will need Charlie to fix their broken jaw."

"Better behave guys, I think she's getting annoyed and I don't feel like setting broken bones," metal thing-bearing man, who was apparently the Charlie in question, stage-whispered to his companions.

"Okay, in this book, -rah was a title, like you were saying," Willow was vibrating with excitement. "So, I think it might mean something like big chief, right?"

The woman tilted her head, as if puzzling out the redhead. "Umm, is that like 'one in charge'?"

"Yeah," the witch replied.

"Yes, then, yes. Close enough. Good guess," the woman nodded, hair flopping in her face. She shoved it out of her eyes in an irritated move.

"Hey, they called Xander something similar," Buffy said. "Rahsen, right?"

"Ruda did. Not me. I wouldn't…I'm not…look, we need to stop…I think I need to get introductions out of the way." The woman sounded terrified that she was going to find herself in yet another verbal maze.

Faith silently sympathized. More than once she felt like the Scoobs all spoke an alien language. Although the instances were getting less and less, she was still amazed how Xander, Buffy, Willow, Dawn, and even to a certain extent, Giles, would ping from one point to another without stepping on any logic lurking in between.

"We should stop interrupting the woman," Robin said.

The woman jerked her head sidewise, but didn't quite turn around to look at him. Faith could swear she saw the woman's mouth narrow slightly, as if she had tasted something bad, but the expression soon smoothed out into a professional mask.

"Go ahead," Robin urged, "we're all listening."

The woman hesitated a few moments as if she resented having to accept permission to explain herself.

The silence gave Faith the opportunity to really study her instead of focusing on what she was saying in that untraceable accent. She stood nearly six feet, almost as tall as Xander in fact. The Slayer noticed that she was dressed somewhat casually compared to the rest of the group, more a frontline fighter than a leader. While you couldn't rightfully call her get-up blue jeans, t-shirt, and a long, black canvas coat, it looked close enough to the equivalent that you **could **call her clothes by those names. A silver ornate pin that looked like a series of swirls and knots glittered as the edge of the unbuttoned coat moved.

To someone less observant than the dark-haired Slayer, she seemed calm and very much the person in control, an image supported by the fact that her heavily booted feet were in something resembling a defensive stance while the rest of her crew crowded behind her. The attitudes of the others made it pretty damn clear in Faith's mind that she was in charge, regardless of how she was dressed.

However, Faith noticed an air of nervousness and a barely suppressed physical jitter as the woman shoved her hands in the pockets of her voluminous black coat. The woman glanced around, trying to read the mood of the room based on the expressions on the faces surrounding her. At least twice she hesitated in her scan, as if loath to quite move on to the next face. The first time was when her gaze met the Buffy-Xander-Giles knot and the second time when her eyes landed on the Robin-Faith-Vi-Rona knot.

"Thank you," the woman said very carefully after her moment of silence in a cool, overly polite tone. "Before I let you know about the where and when we're from, let me get the introductions out of the way." She waved to a dishwater blond man wearing a grey uniform with the universal entwined serpents that announced he was a doctor. "This is our medic, Dr. Charlie Ravensgood, of Haphaestus Colony."

He smiled tightly and waved the thin metal thing in his hands. "Just Charlie," he said in an accent that wasn't entirely traceable either.

She pointed over to a brown-skinned, white-haired man wearing all black, complete with a black pouch hanging from his belt, and announced, "This is our witch, J'Nal ca-J'Veb of the Prima."

J'Nal gave a curt nod, winced as if even that much hurt, and returned to rubbing his temples as if he had a monster headache.

"You have a witch?" Willow piped up.

"We have a hurting witch," J'Nal answered in an accent that sounded very upper crust British. "Someone got an asper? My head feels like it's going to explode. Teach me to expel extra energy to impress the Ancients."

"Asper?" Xander asked. "Ancients?"

The woman's jerked around as she fixed Xander with an unreadable look.

"Sorry," Xander quickly amended. "No more stupid questions until you're done."

"But there **are **no stupid questions, right Catherine?" Ruda bounced on her feet like an overcharged rubber ball as she asked this. Like the leading lady, she was also dressed for fighting, complete with an ornate scabbard slung crosswise across her back, a sheath that strapped a very cool throwing knife to her right leg, a second sheath that strapped a throwing axe to her left leg, and some sort of arm contraption on her right forearm that seemed to be a spring-loaded mechanism that hid some other weapon in its recesses

Faith decided that the hyper kid looked like she could really hurt someone in a fight. Despite the girlish excitement, something in this Ruda's eyes announced that she was a Slayer.

The woman, who was apparently the Catherine in question, favored the girl was a relaxed smile. "Our perpetual motion engine here is our Slayer, Ruda Jawal of New Indra."

That introduction was enough to get a murmur out of everyone while Faith smiled. _Hah! I was **right**, the kid **is **a Slayer, _she thought with some satisfaction.

The kid bounced up to Faith's group and gave a perfect, graceful curtsey that stopped just short of genuflection. As Ruda straightened back up and Faith swore the kid looked directly in her eyes before saying, "It is an honor to meet you, Lanoire-rah-sen."

Faith's brow crinkled in confusion while she felt everyone swing their focus to her as opposed to keeping them on the very strange guests. The kid backed away, shy smile not dimming one jot, while her silver pin winked at the room as if attempting to share a secret joke.

"Rahsen," Faith muttered.

"Same thing Buffy said they called Xander," Robin whispered back. Faith looked up and saw that his jaw was clenched tight, as if preventing himself from saying anything more.

When Ruda returned to Catherine's side, the older woman pulled her close in a one-armed hug. Although Faith didn't see the woman so much as look at her younger charge, the way the Ruda leaned into the embrace showed the newest Slayer on the block trusted the dark-haired woman completely.

"The lady in red," here Catherine grinned and waved at a chic woman, "is Camlin Tikri, a witnesser for UNS."

"This is…words fail…I have no **idea **how I'm gonna write this lead," the woman stammered.

"Better call her Ms. Tikri," Catherine added. "She tends to get riled if you get overly familiar."

"Hada, you can call me anything you futching want, as long as you give me the whole story about the First Battle of Sun'dayl," the woman cheerfully contradicted.

Faith saw Xander look around the room while everyone's face reflected unified confusion. She watched him sigh.

"Okay, since no one **else **is willing to play dunce today, I'll ask," he said. "If you're talking about a sundial, why would there be a battle over it? I mean, it's not like you can't buy them in a garden supply shop. You gotta clear this up, because right now I'm thinking that landscapers are armed wherever you're from. And just for the record **that **picture is giving me the serious wiggins because I'm the guy who has to deal with the greedy bastards."

The visitors looked at each other in consternation.

"You mean there **was **no battle in Sun'dayl?" Ms. Tiki practically liked her chops as she asked the question. "You mean the crater was a natural formation and not the result of a mystical convergence collapsing in on itself?"

"Sundial probably means Sunnydale," Giles murmured.

"Sun-ee-dayil," Ms. Tikri did not have an easy time getting her tongue around the word.

"Ms. Tiki? Later," Catherine warned.

"And what's your name?" Xander asked.

"Mine?" Catherine nervously licked her lips.

"You went through the whole line-up but left you out. Do we call you Catherine, Cathy, Ms. Guisewite, what?" Xander asked.

Faith noticed the woman pause as if she were thinking over the answer. She could swear that she saw everyone else in Catherine's group hold their breath as they watched their leader out of the corner of their collective eyes.

Catherine scrubbed her free left hand through her hair as if thinking something over before finally answering, "I'm the Watcher Honoria, Catherine-rah, from New Providence Colony."

Faith saw the visitors cast questioning sidewise glances at each other while Catherine added in an almost dismissive tone, "Everyone just calls me Catherine. Our group isn't much on the official titles."

"Watcher Honoria?" Giles asked, as his eyes flitted back and forth between Catherine and Ruda. "I don't…"

"Ooooh, watch out. You're gonna get a broken jaw," Charlie snickered. "Sick 'em Catherine the Great."

"Look, I'm certain you have a lot of questions, a **lot **of questions, but we probably won't be able to answer all of them, in fact, we probably won't be able to answer any of them," Catherine said, fixing her medic with a frown. "Because this is where things get a little complicated."

"Like they're not complicated **now**," Xander grumbled. "Am I the only one catching about half of what they say?"

"You can follow half of it?" Buffy asked. "You're doing better than me."

"That's what you get for lending Xander the Scooby brain cell," Kennedy chuckled. When Willow, Buffy, Xander, Dawn, and Giles turned to glare at her, she added, "Joking. Just joking. Sheesh. Stop taking it personally."

"That's not it," Xander said. "Usually Giles has ownership of the brain cell. If I had it, I'd probably just get it dirty."

"That's because you and Willow are in the room next to Xander's and mine," Andrew volunteered. When everyone looked at him, he protested, "Well it's **true**."

Xander leaned towards a horrified Willow. "I swear the kid doesn't have a filter between his brain and his mouth."

"We'll be quieter from now on," the redhead promised.

"Please don't. I need to get my entertainment from** somewhere **since the Woodman doesn't believe in cable."

Willow looked askance at her friend. "Andrew isn't the only one who needs a filter."

Catherine delicately cleared her throat. "You know, I'm trying to make a dramatic announcement here and I get the feeling that you're not focusing. I feel like I should find a spotlight and stand in it just so I can get your undivided attention."

"Ahhh, nowI **know **you're a Watcher," Giles nodded.

"They're worse that **we **are," Charlie cheerfully agreed.

"Take that back," J'Nal protested with a headache-filled moan. "I refuse to give up my short attention span crown to a group less technologically advanced than we are."

Catherine let her face drop into her hands. "Why do I bother? Why?"

Ruda nudged her in the ribs. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

"But it is irritating when the children keep nattering on and on when you're trying to interrupt with an 'oh dear'," Giles said sympathetically.

"That's because it takes an 'oh good lord' before we know you mean business," Xander said.

"Are we going to let Ms. Catherine speak or not?" Robin asked irritably.

"Catherine," the woman in question said between clenched teeth. "Just Catherine."

"Quite right," Giles said. "Please do carry on Ms…I mean, Catherine."

"As I was saying," she shot a glare at her posse, as if expecting an interruption. When it was clear none was forthcoming, she continued, "As I was saying, we might not be able to give you all the information you want. You see, we come from other planets and we're from 834 years in the future."

"You're from a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?" Andrew squeaked. He looked down at his camera with a tragic expression, "Please tell me I remembered to put a videotape in this."

"I think you mean a long, long time ahead in a galaxy far, far away," Xander said. Even though Faith could hear the joking tone, she noticed his expression revealed a mix of disbelief coupled with worry.

"Ummm, same galaxy, actually," J'Nal corrected. "It's a big place, see, and it would take…"

"Besides, they can't cross the edge of the galaxy," Andrew said with a look of disgust at Xander, as if **Xander **was the one who first suggested that their guests came from outside the Milky Way. "Remember when the _Enterprise _tried it in 'Where No Man Has Gone Before?' Bad things happened. Very bad things. Clearly they're from the Delta Quadrant."

"What's he talking about?" Charlie asked. "Delta quadrant? The hada?"

"Andrew? You really need to read that book I lent you," Willow said.

"_A Short History of Nearly Everything_?" Andrew whined. "But it's not nearly short enough."

"Now **my **head is beginning to spin," Xander complained.

"Can anyone follow this?" Catherine plaintively asked. "J'Nal?"

"No idea," J'Nal said.

"Everyone, please!" Catherine ordered, exasperation showing in her voice. "Look, long and short: We are from the same galaxy; yes, we are human; yes, we are from the future; and yes, none of us are from Tara."

"Tara?" Willow whispered with wide eyes.

"I don't want to ask, I **really **don't," Dawn spoke up. "But Tara? What's a Tara?"

"This planet! The one we're standing on! Right here!" Catherine shouted in aggravation. "This. Is. Tara."

"No, this is earth," Xander corrected her. "Sure you have the right planet?"

"Didn't think of that," Charlie muttered.

"Don't go there," Catherine warned.

"Oooh, now **that **would be a story," Ms. Tikri cooed. "Crack Slayer team gets lost in time and space and winds up asking the wrong people for help."

"We are not…we did **not **get lost," J'Nal said. "We know exactly where we are. Cleveland 2003."

"But we **meant **to hit Moscow 2008," Ruda reminded him. "I mean, it's possible we didn't even hit the right planet." She turned to Xander and pleaded, "There is a Moscow here, right?"

"Yes," Robin answered.

"I wasn't asking you," Ruda sniffed, eyes not leaving Xander. She repeated her question, "Moscow?"

"There is a Moscow," Xander assured her. "But it sounds like you guys are **really **lost."

"Hey! You try hitting a target on the first try when you've got to account for the time/space Big Bang drift," J'Nal complained. "It's like trying to kill a rat on a planet located a light year away from you with a spatula. Not going to happen."

"But we're on the right planet." Ruda sounded as if Xander's word alone was good enough for her.

"Of course we're on the right planet," Catherine sighed. "Alexander Harris is here. Faith Lanoire is here. Buffy Summers is here. And the gentleman wearing the metal contraption on his face…"

"Glasses," Giles said.

"Gulahsssez," Catherine repeated, "must be Rupert Giles." She looked between Dawn and Willow. "Which one of you is Willow Rosenberg?"

"That would be me," Willow seemed taken aback that Catherine, who'd managed to recognize several complete strangers, didn't know who she was.

"Ahh, yes," Catherine peered closely at her. "Usually you're pictured with white hair."

"Oh." Willow sounded very relieved.

Catherine turned a smile on Buffy's sister, "And you must be Dawn."

"People know me. Cool," Dawn grinned. "I'm famous."

"Not that famous," Buffy said in an awed voice. "She didn't even know who you were."

"Well, her claim to fame is that she's just your sister," Ruda said.

"No need to be rude," Catherine said with disapproval.

"Sorry." Naturally, Ruda didn't act like she was sorry in the least by her dismissal.

"We're in the right place," Catherine stated firmly. "There are enough people with names that match those listed in the archives that I feel very comfortable stating that it's the right planet."

"Still wrong timeframe, though," Ms. Tikri said. "This story is going to be…"

"Not now," Catherine ordered.

"I'll have you up on charges for squelching freedom of the press," Ms. Tikri huffed.

"My defense is that I'm squelching your mouth," Catherine shot back.

"Same thing," Ms. Tikri replied.

"See? There's nothing wrong with us. They do it, too," Dawn said with satisfaction as she crossed her arms.

"You might want to inject an 'oh dear' here," Giles offered. "Perhaps an 'oh good lord,' since I've been informed by reliable sources that's the only way anyone knows I mean business."

Catherine scrubbed a hand through her hair so hard that everyone thought sure she was going to have a handful of the stuff when she was finished. "I can't win," she said with an edge of despair. "I just can't win."

TBC…


	7. Hell Is Quite Cold This Time of Year

****

Part 7: Hell Is Quite Cold This Time of Year

Their guests were locked in the training room and guarded by all available Slayers not named Faith, Buffy, or Kennedy. The three Slayers who did not pull sentry duty were in the partially renovated kitchen with Xander, Willow, Giles, Robin, Dawn, and Andrew discussing the situation.

Originally, Andrew wasn't supposed to be involved, but he insisted on joining the Kitchen Cabinet since, according to him, he was an expert on all things aliens. He added that because their five guests claimed to be aliens, he should be the brain trust.

"You're not an expert," Xander countered. "You've never even seen the original _Battlestar Galactica_. That makes you a amateur at best and a poseur at worst."

"Hey! I plan to watch the new mini-series on SciFi," Andrew insisted.

"You mean **that **travesty? The one where Starbuck is a **woman**? Nooffenseladies, but you've got to be kidding me," Xander said with a dismissive wave. "Besides, you can't watch it because we don't have cable. **Someone **thinks TV rots the brain."

"One word," Andrew said with irritated display that included crossed arms and a twitchy left eye, "Kazaa."

"I love it when you two serve as Exhibits A and B to bolster my 'no cable' stance," Robin dryly said.

"Besides, they're not technically aliens," Willow pointed out, "They **said **they were all human. They even look it. Although I think I need to dig up a crystal so I can read their auras to be sure. I still haven't gotten the hang of the whole squint-and-look-for-the-colors deal."

Kennedy hugged the redhead. "That's my girl. Tell her to activate every Potential in the world, and she can do it with a giggle and a wink. Ask her to do something any two-bit carnival fake claims she can pull off with ease, and she fumbles in a clinch."

"We're not focusing on the crisis at hand," Robin interrupted. "They could pose a threat."

"Robin? Did you meet the same people we did?" Buffy asked. 

"Robin's right," Xander said. 

"Robin's…" Buffy began. She looked suspiciously around. "Is it me, or did the temperature just plummet in hell?"

"When you're right, you're right," Xander said with absolutely no trace antagonism. "I don't know if you noticed, but it seems like their group is organized like a military squad."

"Okay, see? I don't get where you're seeing that," Buffy delicately said. "Speaking of someone who's actually **dated **a soldier as opposed to getting possessed by one, I'm pretty damn sure that if anyone in Riley's squadron acted the way our…our…prisoners…guests…whatever they are…did, they'd be fed to the subterranean hostiles."

"She's right," Robin said. "I don't see the military angle. Frankly, I was thinking they could be demons in disguise."

"Look, I know you guys think I'm bordering on nuts," Xander firmly said, "but think about this. Everyone in their group has a specialized, assigned task and titles to go with. You've got a Watcher, a witch, a Slayer who's armed to teeth…"

"Shit! We forgot to take away her weapons," Faith interrupted.

Xander sighed. "Can I finish? They also have a medic. I don't know about you, but the fact that they've got someone actually trained to take care of the ouchies? Puts them one up on us. We've **never **had a doctor in our pocket, which is really stupid because it's a really good idea."

"And where are we going to recruit this doctor?" Robin asked.

Xander shrugged. "Beats me. I'm just saying maybe we should think about it."

"This is all well and good," Giles interrupted, "but that leaves that Ms. Tikri woman. Care to explain what mysterious purpose she serves?"

"Oh-oh, Giles dislikes one of 'em already," Dawn commented.

"Look, I can't figure out where she fits in, either," Xander admitted. "And all their bickering aside, I bet you ten-to-one that when the chips are down, they could be one dangerous crowd."

"And we all know that if **Xander **the Great agrees with me on their threat potential, I'm probably something resembling right," Robin said.

Xander flushed at the man's tone, looked down, and said nothing.

"Actually Robin, that **is **correct," Giles cut in while Xander looked up in surprise. "Both you and he do tend to tackle problems using different methods and if the both of you have concluded that they could pose a threat, albeit for different reasons, then it is highly likely that they do."

"Freezing. I'm telling you, absolutely frigid," Buffy commented. "Bet there's snowball fights going on right now."

"Frankly, I find Xander's reasoning quite impeccable," Giles continued as if Buffy hadn't spoken. "In addition, he certainly has more circumstantial evidence to support his supposition." He held up his hand to prevent Robin from interrupting. "Note that I didn't say you were wrong, just that we have no evidence that you're right. It **is **possible these are demons and it **is **possible they are using the promise of revealing the future to lure us into a trap."

"Whoa, hold up," Faith said. "I don't know about you, but I definitely heard that Catherine-rah chick say they weren't going to be telling tall tales out of school. Seems to me that they've instituted the good old 'don't ask, don't tell' policy."

"This should be good," Kennedy remarked. "Can you see it now? 'Hi. We need your help but, shhhhhh, we can't tell you with what or, shhhhhh, how bad it is, but in fact, we can tell you…wait, wait, can't tell you that either. Sorry. Now about that helping hand.'"

"Or they could drop 'hints' about the future and make it sound like a slip of the tongue or an inadvertent revelation," Robin countered. "They could lay out all these tantalizing tidbits…"

"Like Reece's Pieces in _ET_," Andrew nodded sagely.

Robin shot Andrew a glare, "As I was saying, they could use those hints to encourage us to take certain actions or make certain decisions that we wouldn't normally do or make."

"So what are you saying? We should just kill them?" Dawn asked. 

"What if they're legit?" Faith asked.

"I can't believe you're even entertaining the idea that they are," Robin said.

Faith rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't know what the hell I think, but I **do **know this: I'm not in love with the idea of repeating past mistakes, if you get my drift. I'm not about to lay the Slay on them until I get something resembling proof one way or the other."

"All in favor of Faith's motion to figure out the real deal? Raise your hands," Xander announced as he put his hand in the air. "Do I get a second?"

"Since when do any of you follow _Roberts Rules of Order_?" Robin asked.

The response was hands from the three Slayers, Dawn, Giles, and Andrew joining Xander's in the air. The former high school principal sighed. "Fine. A reluctant unanimous, then. But I still say we need to keep a very close eye on them."

"So? We just schedule a Slayer honor guard," Xander said. "Make sure we've got three of the girls on 'em at all times."

"Xander? Given your earlier arguments, I'm rather confused by the overkill," Giles said. "Three? Wouldn't two be more efficient?"

"Giles? Did you **see **Ruda? I don't know about you, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to fight her if she got pissed at me," Xander said. "Then again, I'm not a Slayer, so maybe we should ask the experts."

"Overkill," Kennedy stated. "Ruda's young. I could take her."

"Three's good," Faith said. "That many weapons? My bet is she knows how to use 'em. And personally, I don't think she's going to be wicked happy if we try to take 'em off her, either. So I say we let little Ms. Hyper keep her shiny toys and watch her for trouble."

"Lucky me. I get to be the tie-breaker," Buffy frowned. "I think three's overkill, but I'll go with better safe than sorry. Bonus, if Robin's right, three is going to be a hell of a lot better than two."

"Actually…" Giles began thoughtfully. He shook his head. "It's rather foolish. Forget it."

"What?" Robin asked.

"Well, it seems to me that our new Slayer friend seems to be somewhat, how can I delicately put this? In awe of Xander and Faith."

"She **is**? Me?" Xander asked. 

"It could be an act," Robin stated.

"Thanks a lot, hun," Faith said sourly. "Love you, too."

"Look, I know we all saw her practically fall to her knees in front of you," Robin said. "But you have to see that's pretty unlikely that people from the future would be worshipping you."

"Not really," Faith said with a licentious smile. "**You **fall to your knees in front of me every night."

"Well, now **there's **a mental image I really wanted in my head," Xander groused.

"Right there with ya," Willow agreed. 

"The fact is, we don't know what is likely or not likely at this point," Giles corrected. "Both Xander and Faith were addressed by the same title of '-rahsen.' Given that we know the -rah half of the word means leader, we can safely assume that -rahsen means something similar."

"Oooo, look at that. I can just **feel **an ulcer coming on," Xander said uncomfortably.

"If, as you suggest Robin, they are putting on an act, they have to play those roles to perfection," Giles said. "Which means they will most likely show Xander and Faith, and to an extent Buffy…"

"Not sure that Ruda girl likes me," Buffy interrupted.

"Which is why you won't be paired with her," Giles said. "But, it seems they are inclined to show the three of you respect, if only to cement any lies they might be telling."

"Giles? Are you suggesting somewhere in all those nice big words that Buffy, Faith, and I are on permanent babysitting duty?" Xander asked.

Giles fought a smile. "Why yes, I do believe I am. We'll leave the Slayer honor guard for those that aren't in your tender, loving care."

"Have I mentioned that you've come up with a bad plan?" Xander asked.

"Amen," Robin said.

"Hell's now at absolute zero," Buffy said. "We should pack our ice skates and go visit."

TBC…


	8. Reality Sucks

****

Part 8: Reality Sucks

Catherine sat on the training mat and surveyed her people. J'Nal was flopped on his back, still muttering that one more mass transportation spell like that and they'd be mopping his brains off the closest wall. Charlie fussed over him with the scanner, although everyone within listening distance knew the only thing that was going to make the witch feel better was a good night's sleep.

Ms. Tikri was crouched in a corner and furiously scribbled on her MemePad. No doubt she was finding the right suitably flowery words to puff up the occasion to even greater legendary heights. Either that, or she was sharpening her verbiage to do a more thorough job of knifing everyone in the back.

Ruda bopped around the room, stopping to oooh and aaaa over every piece of exercise equipment and weapon. "Do you think **they **touched this? Do you, Catherine? Do you?"

"I'm sure they did," Catherine said. "It's their training room."

"Do you think they'd mind if I touched this?" the Slayer asked, hand hovering over a long wooden pole.

"Knock yourself out," the Watcher Honoria said dully. She thought about it and quickly added, "I don't mean that literally."

Ruda already had the staff in her hands and was executing an elaborate thrust-and-parry exercise, twirling the weapon so fast that it was a blur. "Do you think they'd let me train with them? Do you?"

"I don't know." Catherine looked at the basement stairs with a worried frown. "I really don't know what they're going to do."

"They're going to help," Ruda said firmly as she bounced to Catherine's side with the staff still in her hand. "Of course they're going to help. How can you believe they won't? You of all people…"

"Key word is **people**," Catherine pointed out. "This isn't the history books. This is not legend. They're **people**, real people."

"But it's Harris-rah-sen and Lanoire-rah-sen," Ruda said as if this was all she needed to know.

"And they're that, too," Catherine agreed with a smile. "But right here, right now, who knows **who **they are. And who knows **how **we've changed that. Gah! If things weren't so desperate…"

"We wouldn't be here in the first place," Charlie interrupted.

"How is he?" Catherine asked with a nod to the witch.

"I gave him a mild sedative, so he's sleeping," Charlie said. He sat on his haunches next to the Watcher Honoria. "You should get some rest, too."

"Not until we get an answer," Catherine said.

"Look, they have to figure out whether they're willing to even trust us before they hear our case," Charlie pointed out. "If **we **got faced with a bunch of people claiming to be from the future and from places we've never heard of, we'd be doing the same thing."

"I know, I know." Catherine winced and waved her hands.

"She just lacks faith," Ruda giggled. "Well, actually, she doesn't lack Faith, just…"

"We got the pun the first time, little girl," Catherine chuckled as she playfully swatted her Slayer on the arm. "Maybe I'm a little disappointed."

"Why?" Charlie asked. "As you pointed out, they're as human as we are."

"And that's the problem," Catherine admitted.

"Why's that a problem?" Ruda asked.

Catherine drew out the book again and sighed as she despondently studied the cover. "You hear stories, you **read **stories, and you get certain ideas. Family history. Council Honoria archives. Hada, even the futching Council Educationary archives. There are even artistic likenesses that were created long after everyone here turned to dust half-a-galaxy away that shows them as bigger and better than real life. So you develop this picture in your head about these people you've never met and, if you're anyone but me, will **never **meet. Then you meet them and you can't get reality to match up."

"You've read too many power funnies," Ruda stated. "You think powerheroes should be perfect like ScoutWoman."

"I don't," Catherine protested. "And, hey, you can do worse than read ScoutWoman, who is **not **perfect for your infor. At least she **tries **to do the right thing."

"And they'll try too, which is what **you **told me is the point," Ruda said with crossed arms.

"It **is** the point!" Catherine exclaimed. She deflated. "I'm not sure what I mean. I'm not even sure how I **feel** right now."

"I vote confused," Charlie said. "I can see where you're coming from, though. I guess I expected we'd be asking a pair of tough, grizzled experts for help and we got…well, what we got."

"Whatever we got," Catherine glumly said.

"What are you talking about?" Ruda asked. "We got the **real deal**. Of **course** they're going to help." And on that note, she was back to replace the staff, firm in the belief that Harris-rah-sen and Lanoire-rah-sen wouldn't let her down.

Catherine found herself fervently hoping they wouldn't.

TBC…


	9. The good news: We’ll help The bad news: ...

****

Part 9: The good news: We'll help. The bad news: We'll help.

Catherine was drifting in and out of half-sleep when she heard the door open and the tread of two people walking down the stairs. Her eyes snapped opened as she jumped to her feet and turned to face her captors.

Her breath caught.

"Harris-rah, Lanoire-rah," she greeted calmly, "what's the infor?"

The pair looked at each other. "Infor?" Lanoire-rah asked.

"Probably something like 'What's the 411'." As he said that, Harris-rah shoved his hands in his pockets, a comforting move that nearly brought a smile to the Watcher Honoria's lips. 

"We've been talking and we're willing to listen," Harris-rah continued. 

"Told you," Ruda said smugly. "Harris-rah-sen and Lanoire-rah-sen wouldn't say no. Not to us."

"Again with the –rahsen," Harris-rah muttered. He cleared his throat. "Look, I'm sure the –rahsen doesn't mean smeghead, or anything like that, but it's definitely making me uncomfortable."

"Sounds like we're a kind of sushi," Lanoire-rah agreed.

"Or extras in a Bollywood flick," Harris-rah added.

"Don't ask," Catherine ordered her group. "We got what we want, just let the nice, strange words go in one ear and out the other."

"Look, can you guys do me a favor?" Harris-rah asked.

"Anything Harris-rah," Catherine said.

"Don't call me Harris-rah," he said. He quickly fixed Ruda with a look, "Or –rahsen, whatever that means."

"Put me in the 'no' camp on that one, too," the Cleveland-transplant Slayer added. "Whenever someone uses my last name for anything I have flashbacks."

"So what should we call you then?" Charlie asked.

"Xander's fine. Alexander if you absolutely have to. Harris if your mouth will catch on fire if you even attempt to use my first name," said Harris-rah…Xander…Alexander…Harris…figuring out how to think of him was going to be harder than Catherine thought.

"I don't have fancy nicknames," his Slayer companion shrugged. "Faith. Just Faith. No Lanoire shit. I got issues, like I said. Start calling me Lanoire and I'll start raising my hand to ask to go to the bathroom."

"Why would you…" Charlie began.

"Don't start," Catherine said. "Please, don't start."

TBC…


	10. Of Saints and Sinners

****

Part 10: Of Saints and Sinners

The motley crew entered the kitchen behind Xander and Faith. Waiting for them was the Cleveland tribunal, which was crowded behind Giles.

"First off, we've decided to hear your case," Giles said.

"Harris-r…I mean…Alexander already told us," Catherine said.

"However, it is quite late and we are quite tired, so we think we all need a good night's sleep before we hear details of your problem."

"Good idea," Catherine agreed.

"But what about…" J'Nal began.

"You're half-zonked out on drugs, Catherine is ready to drop, and I could do with a day or two with or sleep," Charlie interrupted. 

"I'm not tired," Ruda said.

"We don't have an internal fission engine that keeps us going," Charlie said. "Besides, I think the moment your head hits the bed, you'll be sleeping."

"Too excited to sleep," Ruda insisted.

"Hey, kid. Tell ya what. I'll tell ya a bedtime story," Faith grinned.

"Faith…" Robin began.

"Really? About you?" Ruda bounced.

"Unh, sure. Why not?" She turned her grin on Robin. "I'm not objecting."

Robin sighed. "Giles? I really could use some sleep. Much as I love kids…" 

"That's quite alright, Robin. If you wish, we could make other arrangements," Giles said. "My room is your room, as they say."

"So, tomorrow then?" Buffy asked. "Great. I have to battle the bags under my eyes."

"Just one moment. I am curious about something," Giles interrupted.

"I'll answer if I can," Catherine said.

"Well, we understand the meaning of –rah, but I am intrigued by –rahsen," Giles said. "It indicates another level of, well, leadership if you will, so…"

"Unh, we really don't need to get into this, do we?" Xander interrupted.

"Shush. I wanna hear this," Faith said.

"Well, I don't know if…" Catherine began. She looked helplessly back to her crew, who all responded with a shrug. "I suppose…"

"Okay, if I'm gonna get burned, I'll start," Xander said. "Harris. That's me. Right?"

Catherine's group solemnly nodded.

"-Rah means leader," Xander said.

"Yes," J'Nal said.

"Ooooh, boy. You got the wrong guy," Xander insisted. 

"Not to mention the wrong gal," Faith added. "I'm allergic to leadership. It makes me go all 'boom.'"

"Boom?" Catherine asked.

"Big boom," Kennedy elaborated. "I was there."

"Interesting reaction," Ms. Tikri said as she scribbled with a stylus on a slim object that looked like a translucent plastic square.

"That's what it means," J'Nal insisted.

"Fine. Won't argue." Xnader's voice sounded strangled. "Your language. You should know what the hell it means." A moment of silence. "You know, that makes me **really **afraid to ask the next question."

"No net cast, no catch found," Catherine said.

"Riiiiight. Guessing that translates to: 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained.' Got anything that equals curiosity killed the cat?" Xander asked.

J'Nal's eyes looked like they were going on tilt while he translated the question. "Not certain. Perhaps, bearbies seeking nectar get stung?" 

"Sounds good. I'll go with that," Xander nodded. 

"So what does -sen mean?" Faith asked.

"Oh god, you **had **to ask, didn't you?" Xander groaned.

"Yes, well, that is difficult to translate," J'Nal frowned. "It's only used by adherents to Slayer religious sects to designate a spiritual as well as temporal leadership."

"Slayers have their own religion?" Giles asked "Are you sure that's wise?"

"You want to tell them no?" Catherine asked.

"I'm going to be sick," Xander commented.

"Hoooo-leeeee shit!" Faith exclaimed with a raucous grin as she elbowed Xander in the ribs. "I think we're patron saints or something."

"I vote 'or something,'" Xander said. "Please?" 

Faith held her spread hands up, as if picturing her name in lights. "St. Faith Lanoire, Patron Saint of Hot Chicks With Bad Attitudes and St. Alexander Harris, Patron Saint of Carpenters Who Can Wield One Mean Hammer."

"You frighten me," Xander said with awe.

"**You're **frightened?" Buffy asked. "Does this mean that I have to light a candle and pay you a dollar every time I need you to fix something?"

"If you did that, you'd burn the house down and I'd be rich," Xander said.

"Lanoire-rah, sorry, Faith is not wrong, though," J'Nal pointed out. "Or, rather, it's as close as a translation as you can get without an extensive background in Slayer religious belief."

Faith gulped. "I'm **right**?" 

Xander blinked. "And both **me **and **Faith **get these fabulous, shiny titles."

"Well, the -rah is for everyone, but -sen to only a blessed few," Ruda reverently said.

Three hours later Faith and Xander were still laughing.

TBC….


	11. Spotlight on Faith

****

Part 11: Spotlight on Faith

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Faith Lanoire-rah**, known as **Lanoire-rah-sen** to the Slayer Faithist and Unitan sects, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting:

****

Faith Lanoire is as fierce as her reputation. A true lioness, even among the Slayers she lives with. She strides into the sunlit room with a confidence that most would envy; her long, dark hair streaming behind her; her intense, brown-eyed gaze not missing anything.

She doesn't just sit in the chair. She takes possession of it; claims it as her own. Her body language screams that she is confident and sure of who she is and her place in the world. Her manner is at once insolent and attentive. Yet, the full face, the pouting lips, the bedroom eyes betray a hint of vulnerability behind the facade.

She is fabulous personified. She would be as electric wearing sacking or wearing the latest fashions from New Parisiar. The ease in which she takes over a room, the way all eyes draw to her, would put her in the same league as the greatest, most charismatic vid stars of our day.

And yet, this woman, this legend, is a Slayer. Although, as we shall see, a Slayer with a troubled past. Yet, as dark as the road behind her is, history tells us that her future burns as bright as the Twin Suns of Almeda.

**

* * *

**

UNS: Thank you for agreeing to this interview.

FL: You wouldn't stop bugging me until I said yes. What's the deal? They paying you by the interview or something? You've got Giles hiding under a fucking **bed **to get away from you.

UNS: Your exploits are legendary…

FL: No shit? Which ones?

UNS: {heh} Ummm, I can't tell you the most outstanding examples that come to mind…

FL: Oh, right. Andrew mentioned something about a Prime Directive thingy. [studies **UNS**] If you break it, do they toss your ass in a cell? Or is that an automatic death sentence? He wasn't really clear on that point.

UNS: I'm not sure what a Prime…

FL: Something about not interfering in primitive societies.

UNS: Oh, no. We don't have anything like…don't you take offense at being called primitive?

FL: [wide grin] Haven't checked out the bars around here, have you?

UNS: Actually, I was more interested in getting some background on you and your early life. We've had some tantalizing hints, but prior to the First Battle of Sun'dayl the record isn't clear.

FL: [squirms] What have you heard?

UNS: That your first Watcher was killed and that your second Watcher was removed from Council Service. In fact, your current Watcher is the first one that sticks, for obvious reasons.

FL: I don't have a Watcher.

UNS: Unh? You don't. [**UNS **pauses to check Bio on **FL **stored in MemePad.] I, unh, the record isn't entirely clear when you get your third…but it **does **happen around this time.

FL: Who is it?

UNS: I can't…since it hasn't happened…I really don't think I can…

FL: Gonna hurt yourself.

UNS: Right, on to other matters. What can you tell me about Alexander Harris?

FL: It's because of that whole –rah and –rah-sen shit, right?

UNS: Yeah. Sure. Right in one. Are you two close?

FL: Close? Compared to what?

UNS: Well, you are friends.

FL: [looks confused]

UNS: Do you think your relationship could grow into something more?

FL: [bursts out laughing]

UNS: Are you saying that there's nothing between you?

FL: [falls off chair still laughing]

UNS: I take it that as it stands now there's not a chance in hada, is there?

FL: Whoah, boy. If I knew that a one-night stand…

UNS: One-night stand? You're telling me…

FL: Look, lady, I may have popped his cherry and gave him the best seven minutes of his life, but me and Xander sleep in separate rooms. [smile splits **FL**'s face] Well, at least as far as everyone **else **is concerned, dig?

UNS: So what you're saying is that…

FL: [holds finger to her mouth] Ixnay on the Anderxnay exsnay. [leans back] We're keeping it hush-hush.

UNS: Interesting. Why is that?

FL: Well, [looks around] thing is there's a lot of tension around here.

UNS: So I noticed.

FL: So we all have to, ahhh, get it out of our system. Which means some of us older kids have playtime together, sometimes three or four of us at a time. Do you get my meaning?

UNS: I…unh…

FL: Thing is, Robin? Not so big on the group fun so we don't invite him. It's getting to be a problem because, you know, more and more people want in on the games, but we all have a no under-18 admitted rule. [leans forward] But **Xander **on the other hand, **whoa.** I mean, who knew back in the day, right? Shit, **Willow **can't get enough and she's fucking **gay**. Hell, the other night I was watching Xander pound into Andrew and that little boy was squealing like one happy little pig. Fuck. I'm getting all wet just thinking about it.

UNS: {cough, cough}

FL: [leans back] Xan-the-man is a total horndog. Can't get enough sex to make him happy. Can't get enough cash to make him happy. Can't get enough food to make him happy. [smiles angelically] Makes us a perfect pair. But if the two of us went exclusive? With each other? There'd be lots of bitching and moaning since, like, we service the most people in the house.

UNS: [strangled voice] I see.

FL: I'm telling you, nothing like spreading a little Faith. Share-and-share alike. [looks **UNS **over, licks her lips] Want a piece?

UNS: I'm not supposed to get involved…

FL: Your loss.

UNS: On to other matters. We have a blank in our records between your disappearance in L.A. and your re-emergence for the First Battle. What were you doing at that time?

FL: You don't know?

UNS: Like I said, many of the records before the First Battle of Sun'dayl were lost…

FL: I think you mean blown up or swallowed by a gaping hole in the ground.

UNS: Yes, we'll get to that…the fact is…

FL: Oh, the usual. Mayhem.

UNS: Mayhem?

FL: Sure! I was into picking random fights in bars, robbing banks…

UNS: I don't know what a bank…

FL: Place where people store the cash.

UNS: OH! Central depository. [silence] You were a criminal?

FL: I had everyone in the fucking world after me. I made _America's Most Wanted_, newspapers were covering my every exploit, rock 'n rollers were writing songs. I was Public Enemy A-Number One with a bullet. I was a **star**. Then it all fell to shit and I wound up in prison for a few years.

UNS: How did you get caught?

FL: Cops tracked me down. Shit, I had to escape through the goddamn hotel window buck naked to escape. I would've made it too, but they had the CIA, FBI, ATF, KGB, and every cop in California patrolling the streets.

UNS: CIA? FBI? What are…

FL: Oh, yeah. It was **bad**. I made it to this water tower, see? Climbed the ladder and figured no one would think to look for me there.

UNS: Obviously someone did.

FL: [bitter tone] Oh, yeah. NASA was covering all the high ground using these spy satellites. Technology bit me in the ass. So, everyone converges on this water tower and they corner me.

UNS: Go on.

FL: So there I am, naked, standing on top of this water tower screaming, "Top of the world Ma! Top of the world!"

UNS: "Top of the world?"

FL: It's a, whaddyacallit, mantra. Cagney is my god.

UNS: Cagney? Is he one of the Tara deities?

FL: God of Tough Guys, Mobsters, Molls, Rum-Runners, Bank Robbers, and Song-and-Dance Men. Oh, sometimes people who harvest grapefruit worship him, too.

UNS: A most interesting god.

FL: [shrugs] Takes all kinds to make the world go around.

UNS: So how did the standoff end?

FL: They wired explosives to the base of the water tower, see? And I didn't think it would be a great idea to get blown up, so I turned myself over to the courts and they locked me up.

UNS: If you were that bad, why did they let you out?

FL: Escaped. Had to bide my time, though. Didn't want anyone to know I was a Slayer and needed to be locked up special. Then when they were least expecting it? WHAM! Off and running. I ended up back in Sunnydale and in exchange for helping them out, a lawyer pal had my record expunged, so technically I'm not a criminal any more.

UNS: Quid pro quo.

FL: Gotta get something if you're gonna give.

UNS: Surely you've learned the error of your ways and you plan on living an exemplary…

FL: I'm bored off my tits.

UNS: But…

FL: So I've been thinking about knocking over a bank. Just to keep my hand in, y'know?

UNS: Is anyone else aware…

FL: Fuck no. [thinks about it] Well, actually, Xander helped me come up with the plan, so I guess he knows.

UNS: Xander is a…

FL: Worships Catwoman. Chaos Goddess of Thieves, Robbers, Burglars, and Women in Tight Leather. [grins] Probably why he loves me so much.

UNS: So the two of you are planning…

FL: First National gets hit. Next month. [taps finger to nose] Watch the news. It's gonna be **big**. Remember: "Top of the world!"

TBC…


	12. What goes with the color bruise?

****

Part 12: What goes with the color bruise?

This was the part that Catherine absolutely hated: the part where she got to sit around while her team of experts did all the work. Times like this the Watcher Honoria desperately wished someone would hand her a sword and point her at something dangerous just so she could feel useful.

Charlie had sequestered himself with Giles to explain their situation. It was decided that it was best to talk to the senior Watcher Honoria—_no, just Watcher here_, Catherine reminded herself, _and the Council Educationary claims him too, so stop being territorial_—first so they could feel out what they could and couldn't tell the others. Catherine couldn't help but be amused by the Slayers that just happened to drift by Giles's closed door as they tried to look like they weren't at all on sentry duty.

J'Nal was trying to get a handle on the real level of technology their guests had access to or had knowledge of. Willow was targeted to serve as J'Nal's tutor in all things technology, although Catherine was surprised that Kennedy sat in on the session. As far as she knew, Kennedy wasn't a technology expert, that's assuming she remembered her history correctly. _Probably another very poorly disguised attempt at guard duty,_ Catherine mused.

Ruda was invited to do something called "hang" with the masses of other Slayers in the central room. Catherine wasn't entirely sure what "hang" entailed, so she urged Ruda to keep her eye out for trouble and her mouth firmly shut about the future while getting to know the other girls. If they were hanging clothing and pictures, fine, pitch in. But if "hang" was this era's version of Slayers competing to see who was the toughest on the planet, she was to stay very much out of it.

Such an admonition earned her a pout from Ruda, who almost always managed to land in the top five of any I'm-Tougher-Than-You-Girlie contest. As usual, pouting quickly gave way to bouncing when something shiny distracted her. The shiny thing, in this case, was Faith showing up and offering to train with Catherine.

Her team scattered to the four corners of the house, Catherine did her best to hide her nervousness while her mind squeed at her, _You're **right next **to her. She's **right** there. And she's going to train with **you.**_ _YES! No one is gonna believe this when I tell them. No one. Mom and dad are gonna…_

Well, ask for a very, very detailed report, no doubt. First the verbal report, which would be encoded on crystal and enshrined on the family estate, followed by a written report that would be filed in triplicate in every single archive between here and Colony Prime.

Her hand was already aching thinking about it. Didn't help that quaint Watcher Honoria and Watcher Educationary custom demanded that handwritten reports were to be filed along with any report generated by a MemePad. Plus, her handwriting was bad, as in really bad, as in bad squared.

Throw in that just about everyone who **is **anyone in the realm of Slayerdom was going to be watching her and her team very closely when they got back, and she just knew she was in for a nerve-wracking time. No doubt her family was unintentionally going to cause the most stress. This wasn't just about the family business; this was about the family pride.

And walking right next to her was one completely oblivious Slayer who simply had no clue that a simple invitation to spar was causing so much tumult. At least Catherine hoped it was the case. She liked to think she was presenting a very calm, cool, and collected face to the world. Provided she didn't talk. If she opened her mouth, she was pretty damn sure she was going to say something stupid.

Faith stopped short of the closed basement door, held a finger up to her lips, and listened intently. A slow smile spread across her face as she lowly remarked, "The boys are beating on each other."

"The boys?" Catherine was especially proud of the fact that she managed to keep her tone even. _Not one trace of nervousness to be found. No, sir. Keep those sentences short and sweet and you just might get out of this without making yourself look like a complete astra._

"Xander and Robin."

"I take it they don't get along?" Catherine almost managed to squelch the satisfaction she felt at asking this question. _Of course Alexander and that awful Robin Wood were, I mean **are**, mortal enemies, _she reasoned. _What I don't understand is that Faith, **Faith**, of all people seems to be with that…_

"What gives you that idea?" Faith asked, cutting off Catherine's train of thought.

"You said they were beating on each other," Catherine pointed out.

Faith studied her, as if trying to see the truth behind the noncommittal statement. "They don't see eye-to-eye on some things, if that's what you mean. They haven't done any male-bonding bullshit, if that's what you're wondering."

Catherine could feel a jitter coming on underneath Faith's close scrutiny, so she covered with a question that technically was a white lie. "What's male bonding?" she asked as she fought very hard to get images of Alexander and that Wood creature actually socializing out of her head.

Faith shook her head. "Forget it. Their time's almost up anyway." A sly grin crossed her face as she added, "Let's sneak in and make it real quiet. I'm up for some sweaty man-on-man action and I don't want to break the mood."

Catherine nodded, not sure how she felt about the salacious innuendo inherent in Faith's statement. Faith, for her part, had inched the door open and was already creeping down the five steps necessary to get a clear view of the action on the mats without needing to duck below the basement ceiling. Catherine took a deep breath and followed, stopping on the fourth step. Unlike Faith, she needed to crouch her taller frame to get a good view.

What she saw caused her eyes to open in shock.

Alexander was in mid-air, very obviously because his opponent had tossed him.

Catherine immediately relaxed when she saw him manage to land with a grunt and then roll smoothly to his feet.

"Very good," Robin nodded. "At long last you've figured out how to recover from a fall."

Alexander turned to face him with a grin. "I'll have you know I've been doing good on the fall-and-roll thing. By this time next week I'll be able to avoid beating on headstones with my forehead by pretending I'm dead." He stretched with a wince, the smile disappearing from his face. "Which might not so much be pretending and more like me being actually dead. Throw me a little harder next time, will ya?"

Robin immediately crossed his arms. "This is nothing and you know it. Our opponents are bigger and stronger than you are and they **don't care **if you get an ouchie when they try to kill you."

Alexander shook his head and sighed. "Hello, fighting seven years on a Hellmouth, remember? I **got **the memo back when I was fifteen."

"Then act it," Robin ordered.

"Hence the nonstop training," was the muttered response.

"You really should reconsider going out on patrol," Robin said as if Alexander hadn't spoken. "The real fighters are the Slayers…"

"…and you," Alexander shot back with irritation. Catherine could see the dark-haired man reign himself in as he added in a much calmer tone. "The fact is, you're also going out on patrols, so what applies to me has got to apply to you, I figure."

"I'm a much, much better fighter than you are. I've been doing this…"

"Since you could barely walk, yeah, I got the memo on that one too, Big Man," Alexander snapped. Catherine could see a slight wince cross his features. "Look, I'm not going to argue about this because, hey, you're right, you **are **the better fighter…"

Robin looked as surprised as Catherine felt by this admission. _Robin Wood a **better** fighter? Considering his philosophies, I find it pretty futching hard to believe that bistardo ever got his futching hands dirty,_ she thought furiously.

"…hence the fact that I'm training with you, with Buffy, and with Rona," Alexander continued, with a hint of anger. "Plus I'm training with every distance weapon I can get my grubby mitts on—and I'm doing really very well all things considering, thankyousoverymuchforasking—so I won't have to get into hand-to-hand unless I have to. I know you don't want to believe it, but I've actually put some thought into what I need for training and even double-checked with Giles to see what he thinks."

"Have you? You don't strike me as the thinking **or **planning type."

There was an edge to Robin's statement, an indefinable tone that caused Catherine to bristle. Something told her that this was either a very old argument or a new twist on a currently running one. The fact that Alexander's eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned seemed to be confirmation of the fact that there was something a little more to the give-and-take than the words. Unable to resist, Catherine stole a sideways glance Faith and noticed that the Slayer seemed troubled by the exchange.

The tense moment dissipated as quickly as it sprung up. Alexander closed his eyes with a sigh and shook his head. "Look, I **really **don't want to get into a pissing match, okay? All in this together, remember?"

"Just so long as you remember that, and lately you don't seem to be remembering that."

"I haven't forgotten, but it seems to me that I'm not the one gunning for top dog in the kennel around here," Alexander commented as he stalked over to a towel.

"Really? All for putting Generalissimo Buffy back in charge?" Robin said as he slowly turned and began moving to join Alexander at the edge of the mats.

Catherine thought Robin was moving very oddly. The taller man was almost gliding as he moved to Alexander's left, as if he was doing his best to stay in the younger man's peripheral vision.

"Hell, no. Especially right now. Buffy's got a lot to work out and even **she **agrees that taking on any leadership responsibility is a bad idea right now," Alexander replied as he began casually folding the towel. "As for me, just accept that I'm on Team Slay until I figure out something resembling a plan for my future."

Robin stopped three steps away from his sparring partner, fury stamping his features. "How nice that this is so convenient for you," he commented in a hard tone.

Alexander jumped and spun around as if he didn't notice that Robin was standing so close. Surprise gave way to shock as Robin's fist flashed out and hit the younger man square on the temple, sending him sprawling onto the mat. For his part, Alexander managed to maneuver so he could avoid some of the blow's force, although he still landed on his back.

Catherine opened her mouth to say something about the sucker punch, but a hand on her arm stopped her. She glanced over and saw that Faith looked positively livid as she studied the scene below through narrowed eyes.

Alexander continued to blink owlishly up at the ceiling while Robin towered over him. "This is **not a game**," Robin hissed. "This is deadly serious, more serious now than ever before. And you treating it like it's a hobby spits on the grave of every Slayer that's walked the earth. This is not just some fun extra curricular activity for you to do until you land a real job. This is a **vocation**, a calling. You either commit to the mission, or you commit to getting gone."

On that pronouncement, Robin spun on his heel, not bothering to check on his felled opponent, and began taking the steps two at a time.

Faith loudly cleared her throat, which brought the departing man to a halt. He glanced up, and on seeing two furious glares, he shortly said, "Here endeth the lesson."

"And what lesson would that be?" Faith replied, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"About the need to commit," Robin said as he brushed by Faith and Catherine on the stairs and retreated into the house above.

Faith looked over the banister. "Yo! Cyclops! You okay down there?"

"Don't call me that." Alexander's voice was steady, although the response lacked heat.

Faith seemed torn a moment before her expression settled into a furious decision. "Look, you go down and check on him. Me 'n Robin need to have a fucking chat." On that, she shot up the stairs into the house, leaving Catherine alone in the basement.

The Watcher Honoria hesitated for what felt like years before creeping down the stairs and walking over to the fallen man. "How are you feeling, really?" she asked.

Alexander didn't move, although he did respond when Catherine leaned over him. "Just peachy, thanks. The bruises will go nicely with that new shirt Willow made me buy. I kept telling her, 'Wills, you're not exactly a fashion plate yourself, so why in hell should I listen to you when you tell me to buy a deep purple button-down shirt?' But she wouldn't listen and next thing you know, I've got a deep purple button-down shirt hanging in my closet. She kept going on and on about how I'm a winter and should go with some nice solid colors. Right. Like Wills even knows what a winter **is**. Aren't lesbians supposed to have sucky taste in clothes? Don't answer that. I know, I know. It sounds all stereotype-y and wrong. But I guess I should thank her because, really, it's the only thing that'll go with all the multicolored boo-boos all over my body."

"Ahhhhh…" Catherine began.

"You're right. Next time, I make Buffy come with us clothes shopping. At least she knows fashion and how to coordinate outfits with bodily wounds. Because Buffy? Slayer and Jedi Shopper all rolled into one tiny blonde package."

"How about taking Faith?" Catherine squeaked out.

The suggestion was enough to get Alexander to lift his head off the floor and fix Catherine with a disbelieving look. She noticed that his left eye seemed to be furiously tearing, which mystified her. He didn't **look **like he was crying or even about to cry, but the tears were gathering on his lashes just the same.

His head thunked back onto the mat, as if holding it up was too much effort. "Oh, riiiiiiight. Let's see where Faith would take me. Let me think. Not the mall. No. Too tame. Oh, wait! I get it! Bubba's Biker Emporium for all your tight leather clothing needs. Take advantage of our special: pants that leave **nothing **to the imagination, buy one, get the second one half off. Because at Bubba's, if you got it, we know you wanna flaunt it. No thanks. I still have nightmares about wearing Speedos in public. The absolute last thing I want to do is wear something where everyone will be pointing and laughing at the package between my legs."

"Biker? Bubba? Speedos?" Catherine's head was spinning.

"Forget it," Alexander said shortly as he got to his feet. "Christ. I hate it when he's right."

"Right about what?"

Alexander looked at her, but something seemed to break down in him and his shoulders slumped slightly as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "It's not so much that he's right, it's just that he's not wrong, either. He really hasn't been telling me anything I haven't been telling myself since Sunnydale started doing its impression of the Grand Canyon."

"You can't **mean** that," Catherine said with horror. "All those years you've been fighting and training and…and…consulting with…with…Giles and…"

"Any minute now you're going to hurt yourself. You're new to babbling, I take it?" Alexander asked with a grin. He sobered. "Look, Robin just gave me one hell of an object lesson. He walked right up to me on my blind side and I didn't even see him coming. Now imagine me fighting on patrol and the same thing happening. I'd be dead and maybe so would the people I was with."

Catherine shook her head. "Wait. Back up. Blind side?"

Alexander blinked at her, while his left hand drifted up and self-consciously touched his left cheek. "The eye is fake," he explained, his tone expressing that he wouldn't say anything more.

"It's what?" Catherine swooped in to take a closer look while Alexander took a reflexive step back. That explained the tearing. "I didn't…I mean…I don't remember reading…"

"I'm guessing that history missed the bit about me getting my real left eye poked out?" He seemed strangely amused by this.

"No. At least I don't remember…maybe there were some vague references I missed or something got mistranslated along the way." Catherine rubbed her jaw with a smile. "Fake eye, hunh? Well, once you get used to it, it'll be better than the one you lost."

Alexander blinked and shook his head. "Better? How can a fake eye be better?"

"Are you kidding?" Catherine exclaimed. "Okay, learning all the muscular movement to activate the eye functions can take awhile, but once you do? It's amazing. One of my colleagues had to replace his eye and he got top-of-the-line. Split screen, microscopic settings, direct wireless linkage to scanners and cameras, X-ray, and, of course, zoom. Saved his astra on more than once on a mission."

Alexander looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Umm, my eye doesn't do anything like that."

Catherine stopped cold and considered that statement. No matter what angle she looked at it, that didn't sound good. Her translator chip must be on the blink. She better check. "So no wireless linkage?"

"No."

"Split screen?"

"Nope."

"Microscopic…"

"Definitely not."

"X-ray?"

"I wish, but sadly, no."

"You've got to have zoom. You've got to at least have that. That's even in the most basic replacement eyes."

"To quote the great Dave Lister, if I want to zoom on anything, I move my head closer to the object."

Catherine didn't know who Dave Lister was, but she did understand 'no' when she heard it. "So your eye just gives you regular vision then. Hunh."

"No vision at all."

Catherine stood up straight. "**What?**" she demanded.

"The eye," here Alexander waved at his face, "doesn't see anything at all. It's all for looks and because I got sick of wearing an eye patch."

"You're **blind **on the left side?" Catherine was horrified. This was simply barbaric! Good god! If technology in this time period was that low, she shuddered to think what would happen if someone broke a bone. They probably were still using gamma-powered bonefusers to heal fractures.

"Completely," Alexander confirmed, "which is why Robin was able to get so close without me seeing him. Like I pointed out, object lesson for one Xander Rabbit."

Catherine could feel her face scrunch in anger. "Hasn't he been teaching you how to compensate?"

"Nope. We've been doing the Xander toss for the past six weeks."

Catherine gave a firm nod. "Right. We're going to fix that **right now**. You and me. Sparring."

Alexander looked like he was about to beg off, but one look at the Catherine's determined face seemed to drive the idea right out of his head. Instead, a slow, delighted smile spread across his face as he remarked, "I'm all yours, Yoda."

__

Yoda? As Catherine swept onto the mats, she decided she **liked **the sound of that title.

TBC…


	13. Spotlight on Xander

****

Chapter 13—Spotlight on Xander

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Alexander Lavelle Harris-rah**, known as **Harris-rah-sen** to the Slayer Faithist and Unitan sects, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting:

__

Alexander Lavelle Harris is about as humble and as unassuming as you would expect. He seems confused by the fuss and attention made about him. Even during questioning, he remains elusive and disarming, often deflecting attention off himself.

He slouches into the room, certain that no one is paying attention. He quickly greets everyone in the immediate vicinity, but stops to talk to anyone that needs to discuss business with him. He doesn't seem to live by the clock, content to let events unfold as they may. The outward relaxed attitude is deceiving. His eyes don't miss much as they sweep the room and a keen, native intelligence lurks behind a face that seems built for smiling. The thoughtful frown as he takes a seat seems out of place.

He is dressed for comfort and fighting, loose clothes that could easily hide any number of weapons and there is no doubt that he is armed. Broad shoulders and a sturdy frame are built for battle, even if it lacks the lithe power of a Slayer. Unruly, dark hair falls in his eyes and he often brushes it away. For some reason, his left eye has a tendency to tear, even when there's no discernable reason. He brushes the wetness away with the same irritation that he uses as he tries to tame his dark locks.

When he looks at you, you get the impression that he is **really** looking at you, trying to find the thing you don't want anyone to know, to strip away the mask you show to the world. This is the legendary perception on which his reputation is built and it is both disarming and frightening to see it at work.

****

UNS: Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to…

****

AH: You saved me from research. I'm thinking I should be thanking you. 

****

UNS: I'm very interested in how you became a Watcher since it's clear you were not part of the original Council.

****

AH: Watcher? I'm not a…

****

UNS: [quickly checks Bio on **AH **stored in MemePad] Oh, unh, sorry…

****

AH: Where did you get the idea…

****

UNS: Getting a little ahead of myself.

****

AH: Just to let you know? Not comforting when someone from the future says something like that.

****

UNS: So you're still in training?

****

AH: Look, I'm not…there's no Watcherness here. Not a Watcher bone in my body. 

****

UNS: Why would you say that?

****

AH: Being a Watcher requires actual reading of books. And writing. Writing bad…

****

UNS: I don't understand.

****

AH: Have you ever tried to **read **my handwriting? I leave a note that I've gone out for milk, and people think I've got a mike. It's really bad. Bad squared.

****

UNS: Well, there are some passages that can be difficult to decipher in your…oops. I mean, what is your role here in the house?

****

AH: Ummmm. I fix things. 

****

UNS: And?

****

AH: Sometimes I put up shelves.

****

UNS: What else?

****

AH: I randomly pound nails in the walls? Irritate people? Try not to kill Andrew? I don't understand…

****

UNS: Ms. Lanoire indicated that you and she collaborate on, ummm, morale-boosting activities.

****

AH: Andrew does the morale bit. Faith does the Slaying bit. I do the pounding bit.

****

UNS: Unh. Oh. Yes, she mentioned…so you and Andrew…he was…ummm…"boosting your morale"?

****

AH: Sounds like someone who doesn't have to **live **with him.

****

UNS: So you share a bed.

****

AH: I think you mean bedroom.

****

UNS: Oh. Yes. So, he's part of your regular circle, then.

****

AH: No. I avoid him if I can. Which is really hard since he's the roommate from hell. This one time I'm trying to get some sleep and he's going on and on about who is cooler: Batman or Superman. I was ready to find the duct tape, slap his mouth shut, and hog-tie him to the bed.

****

UNS: I, uh, see. Does this happen often?

****

AH: Almost. Every. Single. Fucking. Night.

****

UNS: {cough cough}

****

AH: Want me to get you some water?

****

UNS: No. No. I'm ookee. [rechecks notes] So the two of you don't talk when you interact.

****

AH: Have **you **tried talking to Andrew? No? Try it. **You'll **be looking for the duct tape.

****

UNS: [quickly] I don't get involved.

****

AH: It'll all go out the window once you have the Andrew Experience.

****

UNS: So you're saying his, umm, "morale boosting" activities are more, ahhh, active than yours.

****

AH: He's everywhere if that's what you mean.

****

UNS: And you're not jealous?

****

AH: Hunh? What? Why?

****

UNS: Of his, ahhh, activities, with, ummm, the others in the house. 

****

AH: [blank look] 

****

UNS: His, unh, amorous activities?

****

AH: Activi…[deep frown] Are you telling me he's **sleeping **with one of the new Slayers? She better be over eighteen or I will kick his ass.

****

UNS: Yes, Faith mentioned that there was an over-18 rule in the house.

****

AH: What over-18 rule?

****

UNS: For your, ummm, morale boosting activities. Which you and she are involved in, but where Andrew is apparently not following the rules.

****

AH: Moral boos…

****

UNS: She mentioned that you and she are very busy providing all the necessary, ummm, stress release for the adults in your group. But I got the sense that it could be quite trying when everyone wants to…I mean, when it's everyone in the water…ummm…help me out here…

****

AH: I'll kill her.

****

UNS: Don't worry. I won't tell Robin since he doesn't want to be involved with…umm…the situation.

****

AH: She is dead. Faith burgers. 

****

UNS: I understand that it's an open secret and that you're…

****

AH: [waving hands] Don't tell me. I don't want to know. 

****

UNS: But she had high praise for your, ummm, performance and your willingness to, hunh, go through any lengths to…

****

AH: [stands up] Excuse me. I have to commit cold-blooded murder.

****

UNS: But…

****

AH: [shouting as he strides out of room] FAITH!

****

UNS: But what about the bank robbery plan?

TBC…


	14. And Now For Something Serious

****

Part 14—And Now For Something Serious…

Faith stormed into the living room and ran right smack dab into the middle of what looked like a giggly Girl Scout meeting, minus the cookies and the green uniforms. Her entrance must've set off a mental red alert because all talking ceased as every girl fixed her with a wary look.

"Robin," she snapped.

Ruda hopped to her feet as the others exchanged knowing looks. "What would you like us to do?" the Slayer from the future volunteered.

"I want to know where he went." Faith fought to keep her temper in check.

"Probably where he always goes after sparring," Vi shrugged.

"Which **is**?" _Jesus, how dense **are **these girls? _Faith thought.

"The shower?" Vi ventured.

Faith gave a curt nod. "Right." As she made her way up the stairs she heard one of the girls giggle, "Someone's in deep shit now."

The furious Slayer made it to the second floor bathroom and quickly ascertained that her target hadn't even made it yet. She stomped to the bedroom she shared with Robin and flung open the door just in time to see him wrap a bathrobe around him.

He jumped and spun around, the robe falling open. Under normal circumstances, Faith would've been giving Robin an appreciative snarl, however, she was seeing so much red that the fact that Robin was letting it all hang out didn't even register.

On seeing Faith standing in the doorway, he clutched his heart and sagged. "Don't **do **that. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"What the hell did I see down there?" Faith demanded.

"Faith, for heaven's sake, I'm naked under the robe," Robin said as he gathered the terrycloth around him.

"What? Like I haven't seen it all before **now**?" 

"The **door, **Faith. You may have seen it all, but not everyone has."

Faith stepped into the room and tried not to slam the door shut. "I'm asking you one more time: What the hell was I seeing down there?"

"A teaching moment."

"You mean a goddamn sucker punch. What's next? Beat downs for all? Or is it only for the special few who get mouthy with you?"

Robin sighed and closed his eyes. "I lost my temper," he admitted.

"Lost your temper." Faith could feel her jaw tighten. "Do you always hit people when you get mad at them? I'd like to know because, for the record, you hit **me **like that? You are going **down.**"

"I'm not proud of what just happened." Robin clenched his jaw as if just saying it physically hurt. "But to hear Xander just **dismiss…**"

"**Xander **didn't dismiss shit. You were just waiting to lay down a 'teaching moment.'"

"Did you even **listen **to him, Faith? He basically said that he's only sticking around until something better comes along."

Faith threw up her hands. "That was Xander just talking shit, just like he **always **talks shit. He doesn't mean a fucking word of it, no matter how much he wants to believe he does. Jesus. If he was gonna take a hike, he sure as hell wouldn't be training his ass off and doing all the heavy lifting he's doing around here. Scratch that: If Xander were even capable of walking away, he would've taken a powder looooong before you met him."

Robin face collapsed into a thoughtful frown. "Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not defending him," Faith said. "What I'm pissed about is I just saw me a Grade-A case of schoolyard bullying. And don't give me that bullshit that his smartass mouth pissed you the hell off. I **saw **you hiding on his blindside and sneaking up on him when his guard was down. You were **looking **to throw that punch. Now, maybe in your world he was asking for it, but that response? Who the fuck do you think you are? Judge Judy?"

Robin's expression hardened. "The fact is, Xander **is **blind to his left and he cannot let his guard down for one moment if he wants to continue patrolling and fighting."

"Which is where **you **are supposed to fit in. You are supposed to help bring his fighting skills up to your damn standards, which means you fucking **teach **him how to compensate, not demonstrate the fact you can play hide-and-smackdown," Faith snarled. "Jesus. I had a grand total of less than one year between two Watchers and even **I **know that."

"What is this all about? Really?" 

Faith took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. The fact is she really did want to give her-and-Robin a try, but what she just witnessed in the basement put a capper on a lot of things that had been bothering her about the Robin half of the equation in the past few weeks. "Look, I understand that you feel that we need a strong leader-type to kick the new Slayer party off the ground. I get it. I do. But you're beginning to slip into Bitchy Buffy mode and that's not too cool."

"Excuse me?" Robin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"C'mon. This is **me** here. Not only have I seen you naked and know you always announce when you're going to cum, I've also listened to you bitch about **everyone **in this house."

"I do not bitch…"

"What have you said? Wait, wait, let me see," Faith said as she dreamily tapped a forefinger against her chin. "Buffy's shirking her duties because she wants to kick back and take it a little easy; Giles doesn't know how to reign in all his little Scoobies and keep them focused; Kennedy needs to be reminded that just because she's screwing Willow doesn't mean she's better than anyone else; Willow needs to get a goddamn job; Andrew needs to wake up and smell the reality; Dawn's turned into a typical high school airhead; and Xander? Well the list of his problems is longer than my goddamn arm."

"I don't put it like **that**."

"And I'm not sayin' that some of what you're saying ain't legit, because it is, but the 'tude of 'my way or the highway'? Is not winning you any friends around here."

"This is **not **about making nice, this is about **the mission**…"

"And what mission would that be? Pissing on people if they don't toe the line? Because, I gotta tell ya, when Buffy went Heil Fuhrer like that and pushed everyone to the breaking point, she got her ass tossed out of her own goddamn house."

"Even though it turned out she was right all along," Robin quietly countered.

That stopped Faith and she felt the anger drain from her body. "Don't tell me you're feeling **guilty** about…"

"A little. Maybe," Robin admitted. "Maybe if we listened to her, we would've moved sooner and Anya and some of the Potentials would still be alive."

"And Spike."

"Fuck Spike. He was a murdering prick and I'm sure he's enjoying his stay in hell," Robin snarled.

Faith felt like she'd been slapped. "I'm a murder, too. Should I be feeling the flames?"

"What? No. Of course not," Robin said as he moved to embrace Faith. He tried not to act hurt when she shook him off. "What you did was a very different thing than Spike's orgies of…"

"What you mean is that I didn't kill your mother so we're cool," Faith said.

"That's not…"

"Except the people I killed had families and friends, right? So maybe they should get in a few licks to teach me a lesson."

"You're human. And Spike was a vampire. Two different things."

"Personally, I'm with you on Spike being a prick, but he did right in the end and there's no getting around that. Besides, what you did back in the Dale wasn't exactly on the up-and-up either." Faith tossed up her hands when it looked like Robin was about to argue the point. "I'm not getting into it right now. The thing is, you've **got **to lay off the power tripping. Lately, it just seems like no one can do anything right. You act like you're the **only one **who really understands just how fucking long the odds are for those new Slayers wailing in the dark. Never mind that almost everyone in this house has just lost every-fucking-thing they ever had, including people they cared about. We've all hit the ground running when we finally landed in Cleveland and we've been running without a damn break. We are all tired. Every one of us."

Robin flinched. "Have you been talking to Xander?"

"About what? Your shitty attitude? Nope. Xander doesn't do the gossip deal. This conversation is strictly between you and me."

"My shitty attitude," he deadpanned.

"Look, I get that we've got a lot of work to do. Hell, everyone in the damn house gets that we have a lot of work to do. But lay off the 'Everyone-Sucks-But-Me' act. It was old when B pulled that shit back in Sunnydale and it's not getting any better just because it's spouting out of your mouth."

"So, you think I should just kick back and let events take their course?" Robin sounded defeated. "Do you know how many Slayers may wind up dead for every day we delay? The clock is ticking on their **lives, **Faith. If we don't find them, if we don't at least tell them we're here to teach them, the consequences will be catastrophic and it's all on our heads. You've got to see that."

"We're talking in circles and this is getting nowhere. I keep telling you that we all see it and it's like you're not even hearing me." Faith shook her head. "Look, all I'm asking you is to make some allowances, you know, give the people around here a chance to do what they do without you constantly reminding them how fucking dire the situation is."

"Yeah, well, if Xander's flippant attitude about what we do is any indication of the popular opinion in this house, maybe you all need someone to remind you of that," Robin said as he snatched at his towels.

__

Whoa. Flippant attitude? Maybe I misread the situation. This could be a something that's been going on for awhile and Robin could've just been pushed too far, Faith thought. Then again, Xander may be big on the flip comments, but judging by the conversation she had with Xander yesterday, he was definitely taking a good, long, hard look at where he stood post-Sunnydale and, if anything, probably agreed with Robin that he wasn't up to snuff. 

"That's just Xander's way of dealing," Faith heard herself saying. "Just ignore what comes out of his mouth, take a look at what he's doing or trying to do, and you might change your mind. Besides, alienating Xander isn't the smartest thing you've ever done."

"Because he's got Buffy's ear?"

"No, because he's been with Buffy, Giles, and Willow a hell of a lot longer than you have. Plus, Kennedy digs his shit because he saved her ass from Caleb, Andrew's got a serious man-crush on him, and I've noticed he's one of the few people around here actually talking to the new Slayers instead of at them, so, in short, he's likeable. You? Right now? Not so much."

"You're afraid he's going to paint me as the Big Bad Wolf in some popularity contest?"

"Xander won't paint you as any fucking thing, but if the others see you treating him like he's an idiot? That is not going to go over well." A thought struck Faith. She debated half a heartbeat before adding, "Plus, we got a houseful of people who claim to be from the future who practically worship him, so I'd say doing what you did in front Catherine of all people makes **you** look like the bad guy twice over. Be glad Ruda didn't see it."

"I'm supposed to let that affect…" 

"Just apologize to him, already. Be the big man in the house, explain that you think he's being ass, that you lost your temper, and that you're sorry for letting the fist do the talking. Do it for the team, right? Because if the team ain't good, the mission's gonna fail."

Robin let out a huff of breath. "Okay, fine. When we get through this whole mess with our mysterious visitors…fine…I'll apologize."

"Make sure you do. Because if you two start going at it, someone is going to wind up with a knife in the gut."

Robin stepped back in shock. "Are you threatening me?"

Faith, for her part, was stunned. She had **no **idea where that remark came from. "N-n-no. Just that…high pressure, lots of tension…I don't want to see either one of you turning on the other. That's all."

Anger was now creeping into Robin's features. "I don't think it'll get that bad. I can't believe you think so little of me."

Faith felt utterly numb. "I don't…look…said my peace so…" Her voice trailed off as she robotically turned, left the room and Robin without a word, drifted down the hallway, and out of the house. Once she made it to the backyard, she allowed her knees to give out, and she sagged against the brick façade as a hand clutched the scar on her stomach. 

TBC…


	15. Spotlight on Willow

****

Part 15—Spotlight on Willow

__

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Willow ca-Rosenberg**, revered by the Prima for her pioneering role in bringing True Magic and Slayers out of the Taran shadows, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

The most shocking thing about **Willow ca-Rosenberg** is that she doesn't look like the Prima or her portraits. Her hair is a burnished red that gleams in the sun, as opposed to the snow white sported by her spiritual descendants. Her skin has a milky white luster and her green eyes shine with friendly welcome. 

Much of her story is shrouded in mystery and jealously guarded by the Prima. She bears no –rah or –sen after her name, as Prima positively forbid it, but she is held in reverence by all who came after her.

But in the here-and-now, **ca-Rosenberg** is as far away from her historical portrait as one can get. There's no reserve, no smooth grace, no cool superiority, no quiet knowledge dancing behind her eyes that one would expect in personage cited as a founding influence of the Prima order. Instead, what you see is a beautiful young woman, full of life and hope, who is by turns funny and sweet, caring and warm, graceful in her clumsiness, and so very, very involved with the rush and hum of everyday life.

Of all the people in this intrepid band, the difference between reality and legend is no more pronounced than in the person of this one young woman. Perhaps the Prima and other admirers might be disappointed in the portrait presented here. Perhaps **ca-Rosenberg** would be no less disappointed to discover that the future has stripped her of her humanity, leaving her as nothing more than a mysterious whisper on the wind.

It's long been speculated about the exact nature of the life-long relationship between **Harris-rah** and **ca-Rosenberg**. The Prima have steadfastly refused to release her journals and the Council Honoria and Council Educationary archives contain competing explanations. Some say they were brother and sister, or at least close blood relatives. Others have said they were lovers. The issue has never been clarified to anyone's satisfaction.

But the truth is somewhat more pedestrian than that, which makes it all the more extraordinary. So, in an exclusive **UNS** interview, **ca-Rosenberg **herself solves the mystery without knowing that there's a mystery to solve.

****

UNS: So I understand that relationships among your people are complicated.

****

WR: Oh, boy. You got **that **right. 

****

UNS: Care to explain?

****

WR: Well, take Buffy, for example. First there was the whole Buffy-Angel thing, but then she wound up going for a Buffy-Owen thing. Then there was Buffy-Angel again, Buffy-Scott, then back to Buffy-Angel for a third time, then Buffy-Poopyhead Parker, followed by Buffy-Riley, and then Buffy-Spike, which I totally didn't get. 

****

UNS: Sounds like she's been busy.

****

WR: You're not kidding. Right now, the only guys around are Robin, Giles, and Xander. If I were them, I'd totally be afraid. [pauses] But that's not a criticism. It's not. Against Buffy, I mean. She has every right to go with anyone she wants, so I…just forget I said anything. 

****

UNS: But couldn't she "be with" Robin, Rupert, and Alexander?

****

WR: Unh, well, actually…I guess. Except Robin. I think he's off-limits. I'm not sure the way things are going these days. You'll have to ask Faith about that.

****

UNS: Faith was very complimentary about everyone's open relationships.

****

WR: She was?

****

UNS: Yes. She said herself that everyone shared-and-shared alike.

****

WR: Makes us sound like a commune. Not that we don't share. No. We **do **share. But, you know, there are, like, limits. Me and Kennedy, that's who I'm living with right now, have a really small room. **Really **small. Not too sure if I'd want to share that with a third person on a regular basis. [pause] Although Xander did sleep with us this one night because Andrew had pushed him to the breaking point over the Superman-Batman debate.

****

UNS: So you and Alexander share a close relationship.

****

WR: We grew up together. We're like brother and sister, you know? We've known each other since we were toddlers, so, like…well. {sigh} I gotta be honest. We haven't always been close. Sometimes you drift apart for really stupid reasons, like, over relationships and personal issues and magic addition and the threat of immanent death and getting devoured from beneath. But, you know, we're working on rebuilding our friendship. It's taken a lot hits, not the least of which was when I tried to kill him. But, hey! Thank god for yellow crayons and Xander's memory, right? But, we're making the effort to hang out and talk. We're not back to what we were but…not that I **want **us to go back to what we were. More like I want build on…well, I don't mean that either. I just want is for us to be able to be really close like we once were, but without the illicit smoochies because that way lies the way of stomach-churning guilt and metal rods through the stomach and no touching rules and broken Pez witches. 

****

UNS: I'm really confused, what did you just…

****

WR: Oh god. I'm babbling. I don't mean to babble. It's just that when you're writing down every word I say I get nervous and I don't know when…

****

UNS: Let's backtrack. You and Alexander were involved in [checks notes] something called "illicit smoochies."

****

WR: I wasn't the first! Xander and illicit smoochies just go together. I mean, he spent more time in dark closets with Cordelia's breasts than most people spend watching TV in a lifetime.

****

UNS: Ah. I. Umm. 

****

WR: Now if you want someone with a really strange love life, you gotta look at Xander's record. Crush on Buffy. Bug lady flirtations. Smoochies with Inca Mummy Girl. Cordelia's breasts, like I said. Illicit smoochies with me, like I admitted. Sex with Faith. Then non-stop sex with Anya, which she told everyone about all the time. I **really **didn't want to know about spanking fun, let me tell you. Oh, and he went out on a date with this one woman who turned out to be a demon looking for a blood sacrifice. That one was so bad that he asked me to turn him gay.

****

UNS: Did you?

****

WR: Unh. No. He was kidding, I think. Wait! I forget. He once had a love spell cast and it went all haywire and every woman in town fell in love with him. When they all couldn't have him, they tried to kill him. I went after him with an axe, but the thing that really wigged him out was when Buffy's mom hit on him. Although I remember hearing something about Buffy being dressed in nothing but a raincoat and a smile before Amy turned her into a rat.

****

UNS: [tapping MemePad] I hope you're getting all this.

****

WR: But don't you want to know about the big battle with the First? And activating the Potentials?

****

UNS: Yes! Yes! Good idea! The less I hear about…it's just that the less I hear about the complicated interpersonal relationships, the better off…I'm not sure my readers…I mean…I really don't know how to adequately describe the activities in the house.

****

WR: [confused] It's not that complicated. We research. We train. Some of us go outside to work. Some of us work around the house. Some of us go to school. We come back. Dinner is served. We patrol. We come home. We sleep.

****

UNS: You make this [waves around room] sound very routine.

****

WR: Yeah, we're finding our rhythm. But we still get some surprises, like we find a new Slayer or some bigger-than-average threat comes up, but summer just ended so, things are probably going to change for the not-so-routine.

****

UNS: Why do you say that?

****

WR: My theory is that Evil goes on Summer vacation. Thank god. I don't think I could handle battling Evil during an ozone alert. And have you **felt **the humidity around here? I think people born in Cleveland have gills. It's the only way you can **breathe.**

****

UNS: Have you seen the gills?

****

WR: [mischievous grin] Nope. I'm waiting for Faith to bring one of the natives home and get them naked. I'd say Xander, except with his luck she really **will **have gills and try to eat his head.

****

UNS: So you're open to bringing new people into the, ummm, picture?

****

WR: [confused] Not too many people would accept the life we lead. Can't blame them, though.

****

UNS: So, you do agree that standing on the thin line between good and evil does affect your overall morality when interacting with others?

****

WR: [winces] Yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes you get so wrapped up in the big things that the little things trip you up. Or sometimes you get so focused on yourself and what **you're **going through that other people cease to count. It's a constant battle, but you have to work at it. It's not easy, but at least I know it's there so I can do better and be a better friend, a better person, **and **a better all-around Willow.

****

UNS: Very wise words. Very wise. 

****

WR: So, do you want to hear about Sunnydale or not?

****

UNS: Oh, yes. Please, please do…

TBC…


	16. Beginning of a Beginning

****

Part 16: Beginning of a Beginning

Faith could still feel the shakes in her knees when she returned to the kitchen, driven inside by the fact that she'd wasted two hours leaning against the brick wall trying not to think. She screwed up. She massively, massively screwed up.

Worse, she may have just screwed everyone. All because she was trying to head off a confrontation she could see coming like a freight train.

__

Fuck it. Let Xander and Robin beat each other to death. I wash my hands. I tried.

The stomach scar blessed her with twinge, just to remind her what her gut thought of that idea.

She stumbled into the kitchen on shaky feet and nearly ran over Rona. "Don't you have bow training with Xander?" she snapped.

Rona quickly backed up, hands raised. "I didn't bail. Xander did."

Faith rubbed her face with her hands. Great. Xander was probably tucked in some corner of the house pouting, moping, or doing some such childish shit because Wood smacked him one. 

"Catherine's down in the basement with him teaching him some moves," Rona said, not noticing that Faith had dropped her hands and that her face was scrunched with surprise. "He looked like he was having such a good time that I didn't wanna pull him away. So I told him I wasn't feeling so hot."

"Xander is…"

"Training with the Great Catherine."

Faith cleared her throat. "Unh, Rona? I'm not trying to…it's just that…" She shook her head and tried again. "You're always bitching about how much training you do, so I'm thinking you'd be psyched about the break. So why the hell are you acting like you've been ditched?"

"Am not," Rona sullenly replied.

"Yeah, because when I get a few hours' free time to do what the hell I want, I spend it moping in the kitchen," Faith dropped into a chair, eyes not leaving Rona's face. "Spill it."

"It's nothing."

Well it damn well was something. "You're crushin' on cyclops, aren'tchya?" When Rona looked at her like she had three heads, Faith tried again, "Or maybe something's bothering you? Look, there **are** other people around here you can talk to if there's a problem. Last I checked, no one died and made Xander house mother of the year."

"I don't see you volunteering."

Great. Somehow, don't ask her how, but someone had voted Faith onto the island of people who pretended the holiday kids' table didn't exist. Maybe she wasn't so hot on giving the advice, but she did have a perfectly good set of ears. "This is me volunteering."

"You won't tell Robin?" Rona sounded impossibly young as she asked the question.

And **bingo**, the something was big enough that Rona was willing to spill to her **despite **her relationship with Robin. _Jesus, I wonder how much I'm **not **hearing because I've become 'the girlfriend,' _Faith wondered. "Nope. You and me only."

Rona sat delicately in a kitchen chair. 

"I don't understand why you think Xander's the only one you can…" Faith began.

"He calls me Rona Lisa."

"Okay, so what does that…"

"The only other person who ever called me that is my brother." Rona looked down at her tapping fingers. "My brother's even the same age, you know? They're actually kinda a lot alike."

"Xander reminds you of your brother." And really, she was trying not to laugh because she was pretty damn sure that there wasn't a single person in all of Cleveland who'd ever assume lily white Xander and Nubian princess Rona were at all related.

"They're both funny and the both know how to cheer me up," tap-tap-tap-tap-tap with the fingers, "and they're both soldiers. Well, Xander's not one officially but he **is **a soldier even if he isn't wearing an Army uniform."

"Your brother's in the Army." Faith's stomach dropped. Without asking she could see where this was going. She wasn't big on the news, but, hell, you'd have to be pretty self-involved to **not **notice the newspaper headlines.

"He finally got official word on when he gets rotated to the fighting," Rona quietly said. "I found out this morning."

"Xander knows that this has been hanging over his head?"

"I've been kinda dumping on him, yeah," Rona admitted.

"While you guys train with the bow and arrows."

"Yeah."

"Does he know about…"

"I was waiting to talk to him about it." Rona's mouth ticked and Faith could see it in her eyes, _I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry…_

"Look, I won't tell anyone, 'kay?" Faith promised. "I'm pretty sure if you grab Xander after he's done in the basement, he'll make the time to listen."

"I know, but I've been really crying on his shoulder and he's probably dealing with his own problems. But seeing him training with Catherine…he looked happier than I've ever seen him, you know? Maybe I shouldn't bring him down just because my life really sucks."

Faith shook her head. Rona needed someone in her corner and it seemed that all the emotional support functions had been abdicated to one person. And if she thought about it, Rona probably wasn't the only one running to Xander with all sorts of boo-boos. "Look, maybe you need to…I dunno, maybe you shouldn't be keeping this under your hat. Talk to Giles and tell him you need to get away to see your brother off."

Rona gave her a disbelieving look.

__

Are things **this** bad? Are things so bad that… Faith killed off the thought. She really and truly was out of touch, although she wasn't sure how much of it was because she was wrapped up in playing house with Robin and how much of it was because the other Slayers had stopped seeing her as one of the girls.

Faith got to her feet, her mind made up. "Look, I gotta interrupt Xander anyway with something, so I'm pretty sure you two can still make it to the range before sunset. Tell him you're feeling better when he gets his ass up here. I've got a feeling he'll know you need to talk."

"I don't want to…"

"I think he needs to help and knowing him, he'll run interference so you can clear out for as long as you need," Faith said. Without quite knowing why, she reached out and grasped Rona's restless hands in her own and softly added, "It'll be okay, me and Xander'll see to it."

Rona's face fought to maintain control. "Thanks."

A final tight nod and Faith propelled herself out of the kitchen and headed through the house, paying no mind to never-ending mill of people, cursing herself the entire way. 

She hadn't been paying attention.

That was going to change.

No more stars-in-the-eyes for **this **girlfriend.

It was well past time for her to start sniffing for the bullshit because if Rona was anything close to a representative sample they were up to their eyeballs in trouble and no one at the top had a clue. This little venture was going down in flames if everyone started hiding out from everyone else.

__

But ya gotta wonder: **Why** are all the little girls running to Xander, hunh? Think he's filling their heads with something? Before I step my foot in, I better suss the real deal, see if maybe a one-eyed someone is talking out-of-school.

She eased open the door to the basement training room, stole down the stairs on cat feet, and made herself invisible in a corner at the base of the stairs. 

"That was so **cool!**"

Not that she really had to try all that hard, given that certain parties were severely distracted.

"Show me how you did that." Xander was bouncing on the balls of his feet like some little kid who saw just what he wanted for Christmas, a sharp contrast to the livid bruise on his left cheekbone. 

Faith knew how much that had to hurt, especially because a human hand gave it to him.

Catherine swiped her escaping hair out of her eyes. "Are you sure? I kicked you very hard."

"Awwww, I've been hit lots harder." And now he was **sounding **like an over-stimulated little kid.

"Fine. But you have to **stand still**. You're futching worse than Ruda!" Catherine laughed. As Xander complied, even to the point forcing his face into a stiff, serious look, Catherine took the measure of him. "Remember what we said about your center of gravity."

There was some shuffling, and Xander was in full-fighting stance. Faith could feel her head nodding in silent approval as she quickly cataloged how he shifted his weight, balanced on his feet, positioned his shoulders, and kept his limbs loose.

"Good, good," Catherine nodded to herself as she made the circle around him. "We need to work on this stance becoming second nature, but this will do. Now, remember what I said about waiting for an opening. Don't come charging in just because I'm coming at you swinging. And don't just go charging in because something big and ugly is bearing down on an ally. You've got to pick your shot and sometimes one shot is all you've got."

"Right." A grim tone. Xander was listening and concentrating

__

Damn, she's good. Can we keep her? Because near as she could tell, Catherine just worked a fucking miracle on a Cleveland Street. If she could do this with Xander in two hours, imagine what she could pull off with every single Slayer in the house within the freakin' **week**. 

With no warning Catherine lunged an attack right from Xander's blindside. He must've been expecting it because he managed to avoid contact by dropping and rolling to his feet. The move left him enough breathing room to maneuver himself so Catherine was very firmly in his line of vision.

Approval, disapproval, nothing penetrated Catherine's face as she tried a new charge, sweeping out a leg in a kick.

Once again, Xander dropped into passive mode, crouching low. At the last possible minute, his own leg shot out and connected firmly with the back of Catherine's left knee.

The woman went down with a yell as Xander spun up into a standing position facing her. "I did it! Yes! Score one for the X-Man!" he whooped.

"Yeah, great for you," Catherine gritted between her teeth, holding her left knee in a hug to her chest.

"Oh, man!" Xander's eyes widened with horror. "I'm really, really sorry."

"No you're not," Catherine whimpered.

"Hey, look. Let me help you up." 

Faith just **knew **where this was going and she leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed, impish grin lighting up her face. Catherine, in her humble opinion, was seriously rocking the house. When she saw Xander reach down to help the felled woman, Faith called out just for the hell of it: "Watch out!"

Xander's head whipped around to find the source of the warning just as Catherine's 'injured' leg shot out, catching him square in the chest. He landed on his ass with a whump and whoof of breath.

Catherine flipped to her feet, with a grin. "I **love **pulling that horsha on my students."

"Way to make a guy not trust you," Xander complained good-naturedly. "Okay, I had that coming. Object lesson: never trust a felled opponent. Go for the kill. I shoulda just cut off your head and then started running like hell because Ruda would've torn me into little itty bitty bits."

"Very good," Catherine nodded. She winked at Faith and added, "And don't think for one moment I'm helping **you **to **your **feet. You learn much too fast."

Faith raised her eyebrows in surprise at the compliment. Catherine had obviously forgotten that she just knocked a frigging legend in her own time on his ass.

It probably helped that said legend was acting less like a legend and more like a guy who was thrilled to pieces that he got knocked on his ass.

Xander clambered to his feet, grinning like a loon. Which matched the really loony look on…

The brakes screeched in her brain as she looked from the familiar face to the not-so-familiar one. 

"Faith? What is it?" The smile on Xander's face disappeared and he was all intense concentration.

It wasn't so much that Catherine looked like the man standing next to her. She was shorter and slighter, her face more heart-shaped, eyes sleeper, and the hair not quite as dark although it was wilder with its insistent escape attempts from the elastic tying it back. But there was something about the way the smile lit up her face and the way it disappeared when something not-quite-okay was in the vicinity.

And it was the stubborn ghost of that smile that remained even when the face wasn't smiling at all.

__

This is stupid. A lot of people have the kind of smile that pulls in the eyes. Faith shook her head. But the odd notion worryingly stayed put. 

Matched perfectly with those odd looks their invaders got when Catherine only gave them one name.

She could stop thinking like this any time now, because this was insane.

Still, there was that sniffing the bullshit promise, and right now Catherine was looking like she was covered in it.

"Faith?" Xander's insistent voice broke through. "You've got the thousand-mile stare."

"Is everything all right?" Catherine inquired.

"I need to work some energy off." And could she sound any more hesitant?

"Oh, I am sorry," Catherine apologized. "Charlie's probably finished consulting with Rupert. I should sit down and knock heads with my people so we're all plugged together when we discuss our situation later."

"I think you mean your people need to put their heads together," Xander grinned. "And I think you mean 'on the same page' instead of plugged together."

"Put our heads together?" Catherine looked confused. "How do you do that? And, what do pages have anything to do with…"

"I'll just assume that you've got it right and I'm an idiot," Xander interrupted with raised hands and wide eyes. "Has anyone told you that your colorful language is a barrel of confused monkeys?"

"Monkeys?" She shook her head. "I'm stopping right now, otherwise I'll be here all day and I'll have to listen to Charlie scold me for playing when I should be working." She nodded at the Slayer, fighting a smile, "Faith." And then she disappeared up the stairs.

"Very weird woman," Xander said approvingly.

"Takes one to know one," Faith muttered.

"Wow. That is perhaps the nicest thing you've ever said about me," he chuckled as he checked his watch. The good mood evaporated. "Oh shit. _Rona._" He scurried around the room, straightening used equipment, snatching up towels, and collecting discarded water bottles, all the while muttering under his breath. Faith heard "stupid" repeated a few times, along with "selfish" and "bastard."

"Catherine must've been quite the inspiration." Step carefully. Feel the real deal out.

"Faith, I don't have time…"

"You've been tossed around like a chew toy all morning and now you're all hot to have Rona kick your ass at archery. Talk about commitment to the mission."

Xander froze and he turned to face her, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Talked to Rona, by the way." Keep it casual. Make him wonder what Rona said. "She's all kinds of upset."

Xander closed his eyes and shook his head. "Aw, hell. No. Poor…" He swallowed the rest of his words.

Well, she wasn't going to get more out of him unless she let out a little rope. "Said she got a message about her brother." Significant pause. "Didn't know she **had **a brother, let alone one in uniform."

Xander's face sagged with relief. "Thank **god.** She finally **told **someone else. This has been **killing **me keeping this secret, but I promised and that's that. I kept telling her that she should talk to Robin, or hell, if she didn't feel comfortable with that, to at least talk to **Giles**, because…"

"I think right now Rona needs to first talk it out with the guy who's got the straight dope." Faith relaxed. Whatever the source of the problem, Xander turning rotten snake-in-the-grass wasn't it. "Look, given this morning, charging up there like you can fix everything may not be the best move."

Xander winced. "Yeah. I'm sure my diplomacy skills are really impressing the hell out of everyone. Sometimes my temper…" he shook his head. "Forget it."

There was no way she could phrase this question without making it sound like she was putting him down, but she needed to know if Rona was the only one worried about talking to people not named Xander. "Color me all curious, but why are **you** such the hot commodity?"

"Look, I **really **have to…"

"Spare me a few tics."

Xander's shoulders slumped. "Probably because I'm not a threat. I'm just the guy who fixes things, fires a mean arrow, and watches backs on patrol."

"So, why am **I** getting frozen out?"

"You're sleeping with the guy in charge."

Faith kicked at the basement floor. "Pretty much what I thought."

"Plus, you haven't really been 'one of the girls' since we voted you Queen for a Day back in the 'hood, right?" Faith looked up at that question and saw the intense concentration was back. He added, "Why does it bug you so much? I mean, Jesus, I figured you'd be happy that you weren't getting pulled into some of the drama."

"Rona's drama is pretty huge."

"Rona's is, but not everyone's," Xander shrugged. "Well, it's a big deal to **them**. Throw in the fact that they got a load of Slayer mission statements dumped in their laps and that it's beginning to dawn on them what being a Slayer actually means? Eggshell time to be had by all."

Faith crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall in thought. "You're seriously telling me that you're the only one who understands that? Even more than me or B? I'm not buying."

"Faith, think about this. Not one of the newbies really know **any **of us," Xander pointed out. "When the Sunnydale Potential brigade showed up, we were in full-blown crisis mode and none of us were exactly on our best behavior. Look at it this way: Giles is the mysterious guy who helped drag them into this mess in the first place, Buffy is the bitch who didn't care whether they lived or died while fighting in Sunnydale, Willow only has time for magic and her girlfriend, Robin stabbed people in the back because he wanted to off Spike for whatever reason, and Dawn's the hanger-on little sis who's not even a Potential."

"And you're just the veritable saint," Faith sarcastically replied.

"The worst you can say about me is that I kissed Buffy's ass, managed to convince a bunch of them that walking into a Caleb's lair without a plan was a **good **idea, and served as overall useless sidekick whose main contribution to the big fight was fixing the picture window on a regular basis. Oh, and getting stabbed in the gut by a demon woman. We can't forget **that **all-important contribution."

Harsh words with just enough truth. If anything, Robin and Xander were so on the same page it was crazy. "You don't actually believe any of this crap, do you?"

Xander rocked a hand. "Yes and no, I guess. I'm just trying to look at it from their point of view. Bugs me as much as it bugs you that I got elected the go-to guy when I was out of the room. Hence me actually trying to figure out 'why me' and that's what I've come up with. Trust me, none of this is giving me the big happy."

"This has got to stop."

"Oh, yeah," Xander emphatically agreed. "I mean, sure, some of it is just drama, but some of the problems are **real** problems and it's going to get real ugly if I don't get at least some of the girls to at least start talking to someone other than me or each other." Xander scowled. "Probably why I've been snapping at Robin so much lately. It's getting to me in a bad way and I feel like I can't do anything about it."

"Cause you're the guy who fixes things. Windows, people…" Faith chuckled. "Tell me how you're gonna fix the problem you've got waiting for you upstairs."

Xander looked at the basement ceiling. "I don't suppose you could talk to…"

"Can't. Promised I wouldn't spill."

"Great," Xander muttered. "Way to put it back in my court there, Faith. You're the woman with an in."

"Right now Robin and me in the same room is gonna spark a fight, so I don't think I can do shit."

"Oh, crap. Faith? What the hell did you say? Because your timing sucks." He scrubbed his face with the fistful of towels. "Damn. Forget it. I'll fix it. I'll go and apologize to Robin for being a smartass before I head out with Rona. Get the scoop from her, and then…"

Her hands clenched into fists. "No."

Xander looked at her. "No?"

__

Why the hell is this pissing me off? I want to **stop **a big blow up and this is the best way to… "Grow a fucking spine. Let him apologize. Last I checked you were the one that got bruised just for talking shit."

She watched his body language change from casual to defensive as the expression on his face shut down. 

"Wouldn't be the first time."

She wished she could say the comment came as a surprise.

Without another word, he swept by her and walked up the stairs. As she watched his retreating back, she noticed his body language begin to transform halfway up the steps.

Amazing how he could go from coiled spring to bumbling cheerful in nearly a blink of an eye.

When he reached the top, she winced against his easy, upbeat tone. "Hey! Rona Lisa! Think you're getting off easy, hunh? I need me an ego boost. You, me, bows-n-arrows. Get 'em locked and loaded in five. I'm wiping the **floor** with you, baby!"

TBC…


	17. Computers, and Witches, and Time:Oh, My!

****

Part 17: Computers, and Witches, and Time…Oh My!

Catherine bounded up the stairs two-at-a-time humming the most obscenely cheerful tune she could think of. And was it her imagination, or was the sun really bright on Tara? She could practically feel her skin tan every time she walked by a window.

As she passed one of the bedrooms, she could hear Ruda jabbering excitedly. She poked her head in and realized that the jabbering involved a certain amount of swooning and drooling over a likeness portraying something that was almost too pretty to be male or human. 

Since swooning and drooling was definitely conversation of the safe variety, Catherine backed slowly away and continued her path to the bedroom set aside for her team's private conferences. A Slayer, Catherine couldn't recall the name, was trying to make it look like that sitting in a heavily trafficked hallway reading a book was the most natural thing for her to do. 

The fact that she was sprawled uncomfortably near the reserved room was only the merest of mere coincidences, Catherine supposed.

The girl looked up at the Watcher Honoria's approach and rolled her eyes. "The guy with the white hair, Geennall, right? Well, he's already in there. Your doctor is still with Giles."

Awww, the girl wasn't even **trying**. "You're absolutely no fun, you know that?" Catherine asked.

"My ass is sore, my eyes are tired, and I've been stepped on all afternoon," the girl snorted. "And it's Andrea, by the way."

"Hunh?"

"My name. Is Andrea. In case you care about us nobodies."

"If you've got a name, that makes you somebody," Catherine said. Okay, she sounded like a walking platitude but she just didn't **care** because she had a good workout, a willing student, and her team's screw-up was turning out to be a grand adventure. "I'm pleased to meet you, Andrea. Want me to get a pillow to make you more comfortable?"

Andrea gave her a bit of the evil eye before huffing, "No thanks. A pillow and I'll probably fall asleep. Then my ass will really be grass. Robin'll make me run extra laps or something stupid like that." 

__

Robin. Her good mood turned down a notch. "Oh, right. Sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Yeah, nobody means anything." On that note, Andrea buried her nose in her book, a clear indication that she was so very done talking to one of the creatures responsible for keeping her indoors on a beautiful day.

Catherine's mouth ticked in confusion, but a quick shake of her head and a shrug was enough to get her concentrating. Surprising that Charlie was still in discussions with Giles, more surprising that J'Nal was already finished. She figured she'd have to drag J'Nal kicking and screaming away from Willow and her ancient technological toys.

She was probably reading more into it than was really there.

She swung open the door and immediately spotted J'Nal staring dejectedly out a window.

Then again, maybe not.

She quietly closed the door and stole up to the witch's side.

"Don't," he said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't infect me with your good mood, otherwise I just might have to find out whether you like the taste of insects."

"Random threats involving improper magic use?" Catherine asked with raised eyebrows. "Isn't that against one of the three thousand Prima regulations governing the proper etiquette for interacting with mundanes like me?"

"I'd think messing about with the timeline is against the rules as well, but I don't see **you **preparing any disciplinary reports."

"J'Nal, what's wrong?"

"They are utter barbarians. Do you know what she did? Do you? She used her **fingers **to retrieve information from her ai. No, wait. It's **not **an ai. She called it a 'computer.' Do you know what a computer is? It's a dumb machine that's as useful as a toaster in the bath. No. Wait. Forget I said that. That's too insulting even for a toaster."

"Me not technology guru. You technology guru. I have no idea what you're talking about." 

"Their level of technology is about even with rubbing two stakes together to start a fire," J'Nal complained. "No wait. It's more like watching primates playing with sticks of dynamite."

Catherine's lips squished mightily as she discarded the first and second things that popped into her head. The third thing sounded somewhat more comforting. "We're looking at technology that's 834 years out of date. I really don't see how any of us could possibly expect anything better."

"Did you know that they use only inorganic matter for their knowledge systems?"

The Watcher Honoria mentally thumbed through her limited knowledge of technology. She knew how to turn something on, use it, and then turn it off. If it worked, she was rolling in the flora. If it didn't work, she asked J'Nal or Charlie to fix it. "This is bad?" she ventured.

"Where are the neural networks? Where is the organic linkage? Nowhere, that's where," J'Nal grumbled. "She didn't even know what a touchloop **was**. That's the most basic component of **any **ai."

"Touchloop. That's the pink stuff that falls out of the walls when a ship gets shot out from underneath you, right?"

"No, that's the neural tubing for the roughrout," J'Nal said shortly. "Honestly, Catherine, at some point you need to retrain on this. What'll happen if…"

"Oooooh, let's not have this argument," the Watcher Honoria pleaded. "Or I might start talking about how you need to learn how to use a sword."

"That's not the point." Catherine was treated to a sight she never thought she'd see: J'Nal almost waving his arms in frustration. "The **point **is the most basic component of all their technology is **sand**."

"Sand," Catherine said slowly. "Well, at least it's plentiful, you have to give them that. And points for creatively using something that…"

"These computer ships or is that chits? These **things**? Sand. Optimum fibers? Sand," J'Nal ranted, not heeding Catherine's words. "I bet they **eat **sand."

"Don't be ridiculous. They don't **eat **sand," Catherine cut in.

"Oh really," J'Nal's eyelids twitched with the horror. "Have you asked them where **eggs **come from? From a bird's bum, that's where."

"See, now I know you're overwrought."

"I'm **not **overwrought. It's.All.True."

"Take a deep breath. It can't be that bad."

"It's worse," J'Nal whimpered. "ca-Rosenberg…"

"Yeah, I admit the red hair kind of threw me," Catherine admitted. When J'Nal fixed her with a glare, she quickly added, "Not that I know **anything **about Prima beliefs and mythology and history. No sir. Not me. Nothing at all. Just because I had some fabulous se--…I mean, just because I almost sealed with a…he didn't tell me anything. Nope. No way."

J'Nal's jaw ticked. "I'm going to pretend to believe you."

"Thank you," Catherine sincerely replied.

"I'm going to pretend you know because all portraits of our Founding Light show her with white hair," J'Nal said.

"Yes! Of course! You know that's…umm…stop me before I hurt myself."

"It's not just the red hair. Oh no. It's **more **than that." J'Nal gestured for Catherine to step closer. When she did as asked, he leaned up and whispered, "She's **cute**." The witch stepped back with a shiver.

"Cute." Catherine said slowly. "What's wrong with…"

"She acts like a little furry thing that waves her little paws whenever she gets excited. And the way her mouth moves and the **sounds **that come out of it when you mention something she's never heard of before…" J'Nal's voice trailed off as a blank stare took over.

Catherine fought a smile. "So your problem is that Willow has a real personality? That she's a real human being?"

"Says the woman who only **last night **was moping that her Founders didn't match up with legend."

"Reality is much more fun," Catherine airily waved.

"Reality? Do you want to know reality?" J'Nal asked. "ca-Rosenberg is a **fraud**. She doesn't know **anything **about magic. It's just a **tool **to her. She has absolutely nothing resembling a spiritual belief **or **wisdom. She couldn't even pass the requisite tests to apply for **training**."

"Hold up," Catherine ordered with narrowed eyes. "This Willow is the **same **ca-Rosenberg that cast the Great Awakening spell, **past tense** even at this early date. This Willow is the **same **ca-Rosenberg who will do more to organize the existing magical knowledge than any other witch of her time. You are being **unreasonable**."

"No I'm not." J'Nal looked lost. "Take the Great Awakening. Do you know why they cast the spell?"

"Because things had gone very bad in Sun'dyl and they needed all the Slayer help they could get," Catherine said with rolled eyes. "**Everyone **knows the story."

"Correction, they **did it **just because it solved an immediate problem. Not one of them thought about the long term. None of them. Not ca-Rosenberg. Not Harris-rah. Not Lanoire-rah. Not Summers-rah. Not Wood-rah. Not even Wise Giles-rah. I found **out **from ca-Rosen…Willow that they don't even have the most basic tools to **find **all the Slayers they Called. They have nothing in their technology and they don't have the magical knowledge to track these women down."

Catherine felt a chill go up her spine. "We **know **the Gathering took years to complete."

"It took **years **because they were using **detective work **to find the new Slayers," J'Nal said. "Oh, sure, they've got **some **help from a Coven, but none of the witches in this time period are powerful enough to find more than one Slayer at a time."

  
Catherine tried not to think about some of the Slayers she'd known about that had decided might made right. She tried not to think what would happen if the Slayer-run Judiciary Committee didn't exist to stop their Code-breaking sisters from taking whatever they wanted, including lives. She tried not to think about the Slayers in the distant past who may not even **know **they were Slayers and what they might do if they found out they were stronger and faster than everyone else.

In the name of the Founders…

"Now you see," J'Nal said in a defeated voice. "Now you understand what they did."

Catherine reached out and grabbed J'Nal's arm. "You **have **to show her. You **have **to **teach **her everything she needs to know."

"What?" J'Nal asked with shocked horror.

"Those Slayers…there are lives at stake. Their lives, other people's lives. Don't you see?" Catherine was doing her best to keep the panic out of her voice and probably failing miserably. "**You **know all the identification and tracking spells. You **know **it. The humane thing to do is to teach her. This is **ca-Rosenberg**. She'll be able to learn. I **know **it."

J'Nal jerked his arm out of her hand and stepped back. "Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

Catherine drew herself up to her full height and ordered, "I'm demanding that you do your duty, ca-J'Veb."

"All of those spells evolved **over time**. They were systemized and codified not today, but **a generation **from now," J'Nal swallowed hard as he said it, a sure sign that he didn't want to be giving Catherine an answer she didn't want to hear. "You're asking me to give tools to these people before they've developed the skills and without the ethical or knowledge framework to effectively use them." 

"But…" Catherine pushed.

"You're also asking me to utterly destroy the timeline, which will utterly destroy our reality. If we do it, we'll be worse than the Great Darkness that's already threatening us," J'Nal added quietly. 

"It may make things better," Catherine protested.

"Or it may make things worse. A lot worse," J'Nal corrected. "We have no way of knowing for sure and we don't dare risk it. As it is we may have done irreparable damage to the timeline just by letting them see us."

Catherine froze and whispered, "Or train with us."

"I have to meditate," J'Nal said. He obviously didn't hear her and for that Catherine was grateful because she really didn't want to see how he'd react. "I need to recover from…from…the spells yesterday and…" He stopped himself and gave Catherine a broken-hearted look.

"Go ahead," Catherine quietly said.

J'Nal nodded and retreated out of the room where, no doubt, a Slayer was waiting to escort him to a quiet space, leaving Catherine alone with her accusing thoughts.

TBC…


	18. There's Something Happening Here

****

Part 18: There's Something Happening Here…

The other girls were steering clear of Faith's position on the parlor couch, probably because she stank from the stress of inhaling four cigarettes in the past two hours. Willpower was all fine and good, until nerves started smacking you around.

Maybe she should go for one of those patches, because if she couldn't quit the cancer sticks there was no telling what other bad habits she might fall back into.

Faith pretended to read some dog-eared fanboy SciFi mag Andrew left on the coffee table while keeping an eye on the Caller ID's clock. She let the sounds of the house wash over her and for the first time since landing in Cleveland she made the effort to pay attention. The constant noise was full of the living rummaging around the kitchen, stomping around in their rooms, playing music, or running water in one of the bathrooms.

What she didn't hear a lot of was conversation, or rather, conversation that meant a whole hell of a lot.

Ruda and her honor guard of five Slayers burst into the room at the speed of full giggle. Someone forgot to give Ruda the memo that Faith was in the 'do not trust' camp, because the girl zipped over to her and asked, "Whatchya reading?"

Faith looked down at the glossy picture of a muscle-bound black dude wearing camos with a gold symbol on his head. "It's Andrew's."

Ruda twisted her head this way and that to get a better look at the picture before rendering her judgment in a sniff. "I don't know what he's supposed to be, but that man is human."

"Yeah, not very convincing if he's supposed to be," she bent her head down to get a better look at the caption, "a Teal'c. Or maybe that's a…"

She was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and she turned her eyes to the parlor entrance, tense and waiting.

A red-eyed Rona appeared followed by a grim-looking Xander who kept a protective hand on her right shoulder. With no preamble, he said, "Rona, go upstairs and pack."

The girl nodded and disappeared. 

"Vi here?" Xander called.

The girl in question moved so fast to Xander's side that Faith thought she'd teleported.

"You're her best bud and roomie, so you know the sitch, right?" When he got a nod, he added, "Go up to your room. **Stay **with her. Keep her there until I come get you."

Vi nodded and was gone.

"Faith?"

And damn if she didn't feel herself pulled off the couch. She figured he'd ask her to deal with Robin while he spirited Rona out the door. Frankly, she thought Xander was being very unfair because Robin would definitely understand something like this, especially since it involved family.

Not that Xander had any reason to know that. Thinking back on their earlier conversation, Faith wasn't entirely sure that Xander knew how Nikki Wood died.

"Find Willow and get her to book an emergency flight. Texas. The sooner the better," he began. Faith raised her eyebrows in surprise, but kept silent. "Her brother's stationed at Fort Hood. Then get her to call the base. They probably have a family support office. Make arrangements for someone to pick her up at the other end. I want her trip smooth as glass because the last thing she needs right now is to worry about the little stuff. Got it?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Tell Giles that Rona's going on an indefinite leave of absence. Once her brother leaves, she might go stay with family for a while. Her parents managed to survive the Bringer attack on her home and they're staying with family up in Oregon."

"Good luck with that," Faith sighed. 

Xander's jaw set in a determined line. "No luck involved. We're getting Rona out tonight no matter what and if that means she and I hang out on stand-by all night at the airport then we'll do it. I'll be giving the big meeting a miss, so have someone take notes and catch me up later."

"Will do." Faith gave a sharp nod and departed, planning to first check Willow's lair in the not-ready-for-primetime library before knocking on her bedroom door.

Her first guess was the right one. As Faith relayed Xander's message to Willow, it hit her: not one of the girls interrupted or questioned Xander while he asked Vi and Faith to help.

Did she say asked? Because now that she thought about it, those requests sure as hell sounded a lot like orders.

TBC…


	19. I Can See Clearly Now Sorta

****

Part 19: I Can See Clearly Now…Sorta

Charlie was well on his way to pulling his hair out. It wasn't that Giles was a stupid man; it was that the translator chip couldn't translate words or concepts that simply didn't exist in this time period. End result? Most of the morning was eaten up by making sure both he and Giles were using the same definitions when they talked.

Then there was relaying what they were actually looking for, which was often interrupted by questions because Charlie failed to realized there were more words and concepts that didn't exist yet than he thought. 

Then he had to repeat the story so Giles was clear about everything. Three times. 

The first two times ended with an, "Oh, dear."

But on the third try Giles realized the ultimate goal involved travel to Moscow on short notice and that it **had **to be Alexander and Faith and no one else accompanying them. This resulted in an "Oh good lord" followed by much rubbing of his vision correction contraption.

Which meant Charlie had to launch into a fourth round of telling the exact same story with slightly more detail involving a lot of concepts and words for things that didn't exist yet that hammered home the need to keep the already screwed-up timeline as unpolluted as possible because Very Bad Things could happen if they didn't.

In fact, because they wound up where they **weren't** supposedto be and because a certain Slayer slayed a garden variety Tara vampire she shouldn't have slayed, they were pretty much stuck with working with what they had: Alexander, Faith, Cleveland, transport to Moscow ASAP, and 2003.

"Have I mentioned that this is an 'oh good lord' situation?" Giles asked. "There are passports involved and I'm not entirely certain we'll be able to get them for…er…all parties. You must admit, illegal aliens do not get much more alien than your lot." He chuckled as if he had made a great joke, although Charlie wasn't entirely sure what the joke was. "Furthermore, neither Xander or Faith have ever applied for a passport and getting the requisite paperwork together is going to take more time than you can imagine. Plus, they know nothing about Moscow. It could be quite, quite dangerous."

"You fear for them," Charlie nodded in understanding.

"I fear for the Muscovites."

Oh. Right. Back to the time travel problem. Charlie explained that his team couldn't try again and come back at a later date because of something involving something with the spell which could cause a logic feedback loop in the space-time continuum and that would be a Very Bad Thing. No he wasn't sure what the "something" was and he didn't know about the mechanics. Hada, they couldn't even **leave **this time period for at least another six days without killing J'Nal and maybe turning all of them into mush upon re-entry into their own time. 

So, since they were in the neighborhood—"Yes, when interstellar travel is commonplace being the same planet as your target **is **considered the 'same neighborhood,'" Charlie said with exasperation while Giles sputtered about Moscow being just a hop, skip, and a jump halfway around the world—they figured they might as well try and retrieve it.

"But it's not completely hopeless," Charlie tried soothing. "The Arrow That Points the Way is right here in Cleveland."

Oh, futch. He forgot the bit about the Arrow. It had such a small role, really. All it did was point them in the right direction to the…right. The Arrow. No one really knows anything about it, except that it's a yellow color. Descriptions about what it looks like differ. Some reports are content to say that it's bright yellow and leave it at that. Other reports call it "screaming" yellow, but archivists and experts in ancient languages figure it has to be a mistranslation since colors don't actually scream. Unless, of course, the Arrow makes a screaming noise and turns yellow when it's in the general vicinity of…

"We don't have any mystical arrows, yellow, screaming, or otherwise," Giles interrupted, "unless Xander knows something about the status of our armory that I don't, which wouldn't be all that unusual now that I think about it."

So, one more time around the bend. This now made five repetitions. Five. This time he made sure to include everything he could think of that was pertinent, including the Arrow, while trying mightily to avoid words and concepts that don't exist yet, but being forced to once again explain about the whole time travel situation.

This was a conversation that was better suited to J'Nal's expertise, but Charlie feared involving J'Nal because **that **would mean even more exposition and definition-finding for words and concepts that didn't exist yet. Charlie hoped Giles was reading him loud and clear on the time travel bits and prayed that the Watcher wouldn't ask questions. He had a hard enough time dealing with the concept of time travel, mostly because it was only **theoretical **until they landed in Cleveland 2003.

Give him something he could lay his hands on. A broken bone, a bruise, a twisted ankle, emergency surgeries in raging blizzards, conducting blood transfusions on the battlefield during random demon attacks, and he was your guy. Give him something you could shove under a microscope or stuff in a test tube, and he was a futching genius.

Give him a concept you couldn't actually prove using science? Lost in space.

But time travel, he stressed to Giles as the Watcher's expression sunk into ever deepening horror when the realization dawned on just how bad the situation was in the merrie ol' future, had never been even attempted by anyone for one simple reason: causality is an uncontrollable bitch.

There were two reasons why his team tried it: one, because it had **already **been done. They had a Watcher's diary—no he wasn't going to say whose except that the diary was written by one of the Founders of Catherine's family line so the source is impeachable—that specifically spelled out that they'd done it and ended up in Moscow 2008. The second reason? Because the problem that needed solving was that horrific and the only item that could help them was in Moscow.

And since **they **had gone to Moscow and retrieved the item in 2008, it wasn't like they could wander into one of the massive vaults held by either of the two Watcher's Councils or the leading families of those Watcher's Councils and find what they needed. 

Like he said: causality? A **very** unpredictable bitch. Plus, you always got a headache if you thought too hard about it.

Upon finishing his fifth repetition of the story and watching Giles's face sink into despair over the hurdle Charlie had put before him, there was a firm knock at the door.

"Not now," Giles snapped.

The door opened and Alexander strode into the room. "This can't wait."

"Xander, I **am **rather busy at the moment. So if you have a problem…"

Alexander drew himself up to his full height and stated, "I'll only be a moment, and you will spare me the time."

Giles narrowed his eyes, but said, "Make it quick. This conference is rather important."

"I'd rather not say in front of one of our guests," here Alexander nodded at Charlie in half-apology, half-acknowledgement, "I need to keep this in the family for now."

"It's all right Giles. I've explained everything I can possibly explain," Charlie said. 

There was going to be no dissuading Alexander from interrupting and saying what was on his mind and Charlie **knew **that without even thinking about it. Lords know that he knew that look. Strange that Giles didn't know that.

On second thought, maybe it wasn't that strange at all. 

"At least now I know how we can explain it to the rest of your team," Charlie continued, pretending not to notice that Giles was now glaring at Alexander. "Plus, I'm pretty sure Catherine's got to be wondering what happened to me and I really need to talk to her and the others before we make our presentation tonight."

There was a brief flash in Alexander's eyes. He knew exactly what Charlie was doing: making his job a little easier. The flash of understanding was gone and the jaw set in a hardening determined expression.

And right at that moment Charlie realized that he was staring right into the futching maw of history. Or as Ms. Tikri put it, right at the beginning of everything. In this room at this moment, Charlie sensed that a seed of a future had been dropped. It was both something less than he expected and something more than he hoped.

He resisted the urge to bow as he left the room. 

As the door closed behind him, he heard Alexander begin, "I need to talk to you about Ro…"

The sound of the lock catching was enough to bring him to a halt. He looked at painted woodwork before reaching out and touching it. Somewhere in there was a Key Medical Order Award-winning paper about nature vs. nurture. All he needed to do was interact more with both Alexander and Faith and he would be well on his way to…

"Hey!"

He spun around to see a dark-haired Slayer—Kennedy he thought her name was— suspiciously watching him with folded arms. 

When she saw he had his attention, she added, "I'm pretty sure that you shouldn't be listening at the door."

"I'm not listening…"

"Look, I don't have time to shadow you all night. Don't you have a place to be? Your buds are down the hall, so if you don't mind? I really could use a snack and I can't **do **that until you're under guard in your own room. Making myself clear?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a charming woman who will win over the hearts and minds of men everywhere?"

"Have I ever told you that winning the hearts and minds of men is not exactly my goal in life?"

"And they say that some Slayers have no diplomatic skills," Charlie grumbled as he turned away and headed down the hall. "Such a charmless, little," he opened the door to see Catherine lying on her back staring dissolutely up and the ceiling, "cloud of depression. What happened?"

"I'm a futching idiot."

Charlie closed the door with a sigh. "What happened?"

She waved her hands at the ceiling. "No. No. No details. Just say, 'Catherine, you're a futching idiot.'"

"Is this because you let J'Nal talk to his precious Willow?"

"This is because I decided to train this morning."

"Well, that's good, right? Work off some of the tension that…"

"With Faith."

"Oh. Um. Technically speaking you shouldn't feel guilty if you landed a…"

"But I couldn't do it with Faith because there was an altercation."

"You got into a fight with…"

"No. Altercation involved Alexander and that awful man."

Charlie dropped his head in his hands. "Catherine? **Please **tell me you didn't hit…"

"No. I hit Alexander."

Charlie's head popped up. "You what?"

"See, that Wood person left after the altercation. Faith went to go talk to that bastardo. I checked on Alexander to make sure he was…what is that word again?"

"Ookee?"

"Right. Ookee. Because that…that Robin sucker-punched him. From his blindside. By the way, do you remember **anything **about Alexander being blind in his left eye?"

"He's what?"

"Well, technically, that's wrong. You need an eye to be actually blind in it."

"See, now I'm confused."

"So I decided to train Alexander in how to compensate."

Charlie stood there in silence for a few moments. "Let me get this straight. You took it upon yourself to **teach **Alexander Lavelle Harris-rah, the Lion of Tara, Founding Light of the Watchers Honoria, White Knight of the Faithists, Keeper of the Key Medical Order, co-Founder of…"

"Yes."

Charlie was fighting very hard not to laugh, he really was. "He soooo kicked your astra, didn't he?"

"I kicked his astra."

Charlie immediately sobered. "What?"

"I. Kicked. His. Astra."

"You're joking."

"Then I began showing off. I showed him the boogle-boogle move."

"You showed him the…Catherine!"

"What?" came the sullen reply.

"The boogle-boogle move only works in one-half standard gravities. You **know **that."

"I showed him the modified version."

"You…but…the **modified **version?" Charlie sputtered.

"The **advanced **modified version."

"The advan…Ohmylords." Charlie felt sick. Teaching someone—a someone who was angry and may be bearing a grudge—such a dangerous and deadly attack could only mean trouble followed by a dead body.

"Thank the Founders, and by that I mean literally since both Alexander and Faith were **personally** involved, I got interrupted before I could show him a couple of gee-han-jo moves. I only got to the first step where you slam your foot into the back of your opponent's knee."

"Oh. Well. At least he didn't look like you broke him or anything," Charlie fought to keep his tone light. "I just saw him and…although that might explain why he looked really, really angry. You didn't try to break him, did you?"

Catherine lifted her head off the floor and she gave Charlie a glare. "I did **not **try to break him. He's not a Slayer you know. And I resent the implication I've ever tried to break another human being. I have **never **broken a Slayer, not in all my time teaching hand-to-hand combat at the Academy, not in all my field time. Ever. Besides, Slayers don't break that easily. Half the time I keep Ruda from trying to break herself."

"Calm down. I'm just…"

"Plus he was really, really having a lot of fun. Training I mean. Even when I kicked his astra. Several times. So if he's angry, it's not at **me**. At least I hope not."

"Catherine? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Given Alexander to the right tools to kick Robin's astra?" she hopefully asked.

"Catherine," Charlie began through gritted teeth, "we're not supposed to be arming one side with smooth moves while sowing the seeds of discontent between…"

"I know, I know!" Catherine sat up and continued her moping glare at the carpet. "**This **guy is supposed to be a legendary fighter and Watcher and… **This **guy. Know what I found out? He's nothing more than a scrapper."

Charlie picked his way across the carpet and settled on the floor opposite his fearless and depressed leader. "Well, he's got to be more than **that**. He's still walking upright after, what, almost ten years of fighting demons? Means he has a healthy idea of how not to die."

Catherine snorted. 

"Fine, you don't exactly have a high opinion of his hand-to-hand abilities. So why did you start teaching him? What possessed you?"

Catherine picked at the carpet. "He wanted to learn. Everything I showed him he just…just…absorbed it. But you'd think **someone **would've seen to formalized training before **now**, right? So why is he listening to **me **when…"

"You always did have the teaching knack," Charlie shrugged. "C'mon, I knew you back when you were teaching hand-to-hand at the Academy. Half the time I think you had a lot more fun than the Potentials and new Slayers did."

The Watcher Honoria scrubbed her hands through her hair. "Prefer teaching anyway. Not sure I like field work all that much."

"You're just saying that because of the mission," Charlie dismissed with a wave of his hand. "This is really getting to you, isn't it? You're usually Ms. Level-headed when everything gets emotionally odd."

"Oh, like you're surprised."

"I guess not. But you're forgetting, we're all going through the same thing."

Catherine gave him the raised eyebrow of doubt.

"Fine. Probably not Ruda. Hada, I'm pretty sure her Lanoire-rah-sen and Harris-rah-sen could sprout fangs and begin feasting on the hearts of innocent babies and she'd still have that unshakeable belief that they'll do right in the end. And maybe not me so much because I'm just the rube doc in these here parts. And Tikri…well…who knows what she thinks. But I'm sure that J'Nal…hey? Where is J'Nal by the way?"

"Meditating. He needed to recover from the spell, correction, spells he was throwing around yesterday **and**, if I heard him right, nonstop talking from his ca-Rosenberg **and** the stress of dealing with, and I quote, 'watching primates play with sticks of dynamite.'"

"I guess it didn't go well?"

"Let's put it this way, if you want a perfect picture of what preconceived notions splattered across a landscape look like, you **definitely **want to talk to our resident witch."

"Or look at you," Charlie added. 

"That's just it, I don't know." Catherine grimaced. "I'm worse than Ruda. I **want **to believe, but I just can't see past reality."

A brief flash of the look on Alexander's face as he strode into Giles's room zipped through Charlie's mind. "And what exactly does reality look like to you?"

"Alexander's nothing more than a good-natured thug with street fighting skills that are passable against unsuspecting and untrained humans, but has nothing resembling a warrior bone in his body," Catherine moped. "Faith dresses like she should be picking up trade in the LoveRent districts on Karisa, she's playing futch-me-this with that Robin, **and **Tikri's hinting around that her interview is gong to blow the lid off her reputation." 

"And once again, I've got to remind you that you're looking at them before they became who they are. Or is that will be?" Charlie squirmed. While he and Catherine were close friends, he was used to her being the person everyone could lean on. Usually if something bothered her he had to pull teeth after applying copious amounts of alcohol to get her to talk. The fact that Catherine was willingly admitting that she was less-than-fine while still sober? Not a good sign. His mind scrambled for something comforting. "We got what we got, but you **know **that they grow and change. Lords know of everyone here you've got more reason to believe that than even Ruda."

Catherine studied him a moment before saying, "One small problem."

"What problem is that?"

"The boogle-boogle move," Catherine said quietly. "A form of combat that doesn't even **exist **yet."

Charlie absorbed that statement a bit before the full meaning behind Catherine's eyes hit him square between his eyes. He didn't even **consider **the possible ripple effect. Oh, hada! He just knew there was a Very Bad Thing involving universal time-space continuum feedback loops just waiting to turn his trapped-in-the-past self to mush. He just **knew** it. "Futch," he said quietly, "your little teaching and training session may have changed…"

"Everything," the Watcher Honoria glumly finished for him.

TBC…


	20. Spotlight on Andrew

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Part 20: Spotlight on Andrew

__

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Andrew Wells**, occupant of Taran United Watcher's Council building, pre-founding, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

**__**

Andrew Wells is a small man in more ways than one. He is physically tiny even compared to some of the petite Slayers living in the house. His dreams and wants seem to be equally small and he appears content to float on the surface of life as a witness to history in the making. It is, perhaps, no surprise that he remains a background figure with no true face or form, lost as he is among shadows cast by larger personalities.

What little is known about him comes down to vague, unconnected references in several journals penned by the legendary giants of the time. It isn't entirely clear how he became affiliated with this intrepid group or the reasons for his departure from the same. All that is known is that he was occasionally used as a source of information, even if he was not entirely trusted by his sometime allies.

The strangest notation on his contribution to the post-Sun'dyl world comes from a source located in what the Tarans call La-La Land, where it is believed **Mr. Wells **made his home after his departure from Cleveland, which said that he was "unbelievably expensive, why are we paying him again?" (TouchInfor References_:_ **Wolfram & Hart **budgetary records, Indices 2571 inclusive through 29065, 2004-2031). 

Some members of the Taran United Watcher's Council seem to view him in a benign light. **Robin Wood-rah **viewed him as "harmless," if "distracting" and later became his greatest defender by calling him "a victim of circumstance" and "misunderstood" in his famous series of letters. (TouchInfor References_:_ **Wood, R.**, Journal Indices 1532 circa 2003; 2823 circa 2004; 8752 inclusive 8907, circa 2010).

****

Wise Rupert Giles-rah called him an "inveterate storyteller" early on, but later considered him "a necessary evil" for the Council's sacred mission that had to be nurtured and protected (TouchInfor References_:_ **Giles, R.**, Journal Indices 1437 circa 2003; 2734 circa 2004; 7851 circa 2009; 8828 circa 2010; 11001 circa 2013). 

On the other side of the divide stand the statements from the two senior Slayers of the time and **Alexander Harris-rah**.

****

Buffy Summers-rah has numerous choice words for him, including "helpless and hopeless," "a crocodile-tears redemptionist," and "a pimple on the chin of humanity, and not the cute blackhead kind, but the icky infected whitehead kind that eats half your chin," even if she allowed that he was "occasionally something resembling useful" and "not a complete waste of human flesh" (TouchInfor References_:_ **Summers, B.**, Journal Indices 2240 circa 2004; 4520 circa 2006; 8175 circa 2010; 9861 circa 2011; 14900 circa 2016). 

****

Harris-rah claimed **Mr. Wells **was "out only for number one" and called him "the worst kind of opportunist, as in the kind of opportunist who gives opportunists a bad rep." **Mr. Wells **is also the subject of the statement, "a mercenary who'll sell his services to the highest bidder and I hope Angel gets a big old happy from Cordy and goes all Angelus on his ass," which archivists tell us is a clear indication of **Harris-rah**'s deep dislike of the man(TouchInfor References_:_ **Harris, A.**, Journal Indices 3576 circa 2005; 7756 circa 2009; 8652 circa 2010). 

****

Faith Lanoire-rah seems to, on the whole, concur with her sister Slayer's and **Harris-rah**'s judgment of **Mr. Wells**'s character. Her famous notation, "I hope Angel kicks his carcass to China and back using spiked boots and then lets me stomp on his head like it's a grape and I'm a wop that needs to make a gallon of wine," was written after what is known as the Yukon Flight of 2010 (TouchInfor Reference_:_ **Lanoire, F.**, Journal Entry 8409 circa 2010). 

Readers and viewers might recall the story of the Yukon Flight in which **Lanoire-rah** and **Harris-rah **were forced underground in the country known as Can'da for nearly four standard months to avoid detection by a tribe of vampirized werewolves while trying desperately to save the human population living in the tribe's hunting grounds. 

__

It is interesting to note that even though most of what we know about **Mr. Wells **comes from the flurry of reports around the otherwise well-documented Yukon Flight, history is not entirely clear what role he played, if anything. He was he was never officially accused of wrongdoing or commended for any rightdoing by anyone on the Taran United Watcher's Council and no mention has ever been made of him crossing either Slayer Code or breaking Human Law. It is, however, interesting to note that both **Lanoire-rah **and **Harris-rah** refused to have any interaction with or use information from Mr. Wells following the Yukon Flight and the fight that nearly cost them their lives, a situation that occasionally hampered their activities in the years following.

__

As for what **Mr. Wells** is or isn't, what he did or did not do, there is no one left to say. He left no record, written or recorded, to explain himself or his role and his contemporaries have little to say about him beyond tantalizing tidbits. His mysterious future remains a mystery both in the present and the distant past. So, at long last, a silenced voice is finally heard in an exclusive **UNS **interview.

****

UNS: I'm curious about your view of the people in this house and the role you see for yourself in the years going forward.

****

AW: Don't you already know that? [slaps head] Whoops. Sorry. I know you can't tell me because of the Temporal Prime Directive. I don't want to get you in trouble with the Federation.

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UNS: Temporal prime directive? Feder…

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AW: You know. How you're not supposed to mess with the timelines 'n stuff for personal gain or revenge because that might alter the course of history and that could mean the earth ceases to exist and that the Federation will never be founded and the universe would be an unhappier place.

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UNS: {clears throat} If I get the gist of…of…there's concerns that perhaps we might alter the timeline beyond recognition?

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AW: Well, yeah, because that would mean I might die in an alien invasion or I might never be born at all.

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UNS: I don't under….

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AW: Besides, as a reformed supervillan I don't want to destroy the world anymore. Not that I wanted to destroy it in the first place. I just signed up to be a supervillian because Warren said we'd get rich and become chick magnets. Although I think just getting, like, a gagillian dollars would've been really cool, as in _Matrix_ cool, because then we could still do anything we wanted, including the thing with the monkeys. 

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UNS: Supervillan? Monkeys?

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AW: I really don't want to talk about it because it wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be, especially since Warren…{sniff}. I don't want to talk about it. Being a supervillan is **really **hard work. Everyone thinks it's all fun and games and that you can MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA all day while rubbing your hands, but it takes a lot of planning and sweat and following orders and even then it might not turn out right because you can't figure out the jetpack controls or because Warren won't let you borrow his balls from his waist pack.

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UNS: [hesitant] Balls?

****

AW: Besides, do you know how many "If I Was an Evil Overlord" lists there are on the Internet? It's very hard figuring out which one is the **right **one. So you kind of have to memorize all of them and that's a lot of rules. It's very easy to forget one and usually it's the one you need to get you out of trouble, like, what to do when you knock yourself out because you engage a jet pack while standing under a building overhang.

****

UNS: [quickly] Let's focus on the present.

****

AW: I've been redeemed from my evil ways and now I'm one of the good guys, sort of like when Jean Grey became the Dark Phoenix and then came back from the dark side and then had to die so the Shi'ar Empire wouldn't destroy earth. Except it turned out that it really wasn't Jean Grey, but…

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UNS: [interrupting] So you're saying you're evil?

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AW: But I'm **not. **I said I wasn't. I've shown I was really, really sorry about killing Jonathan, even though the First made me do it. Actually, I didn't know it was the First. I thought it was Warren. And I thought that by killing Jonathan I'd make him a god, so I didn't mean to kill him **dead** dead, just sort of dead temporarily. Then I found out the truth and went to Buffy and explained the whole situation and she brought me in as a trusted lieutenant to help lead the army she was building to fight the First since I had first-hand experience going mano-a-mano with It and came out alive.

****

UNS: Let me get this straight: You broke Human Law, specifically, you murdered someone, and…

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AW: Being a murderer doesn't automatically disqualify you, you know. Some of Buffy's closest friends are murderers.

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UNS: [taps translator chip] I have to be hearing this wrong.

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AW: Nunh-unh. Take Willow. She killed Warren, but she killed only one person before trying to kill me and Jonathan.

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UNS: She…she…I see. {clears throat} Aren't you angry about her killing this Warren and trying to kill you?

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AW: Well, yes, but if I don't forgive her than I'm being hypocritical because I want people to forgive me. Besides, Willow cast the spell that turned all the Potentials into Slayers, so she's one of the good guys now, like me.

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UNS: You mentioned that Summers-r…I mean Buffy, actually associated with other murderers? Plural?

****

AW: Faith killed **at least **two people. The first guy was an accident, I think. He stumbled in the middle of this fight were Faith and Buffy were fighting vampires and Faith thought he was a vampire and staked him. But then she went over to the darkside, although she didn't want to be an Evil Overlord, she just wanted to be the sidekick, which kinda makes sense because you still get a lot of perks without all of the superheroes going after you like the Evil Overlord. So she started working for this Mayor who was really a demon, see? And he made her kill a Vulcanologist.

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UNS: [blinking] Wait, wait. Faith really **was** a…a…and what's a…

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AW: Fans of _Star Trek_ who dress up as Vulcans at conventions and stuff_._ I think this one lady who wore her _Star Trek_ uniform at the O.J. Simpson trial was one

****

UNS: Star…

****

AW: _Star Trek _is how we know about the Prime Directive and the Temporal Prime Directive. [reaches over and pats **UNS**'s hand] Don't worry, I told everyone about the Prime Directives so they wouldn't try to find out about the future. The only one I didn't have to tell was Xander because he already knew it, even if he told me that I was being…

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UNS: Is Alexander a murderer?

****

AW: Xander is **not **a murderer. Someone would've told me if he was. Besides, he's **always **been one of the good guys. He's upright, loyal, and he's **never, ever** hurt anyone. Well, except Anya when they broke up and they didn't get married, but they really, really loved each other and I'm glad they found each other again before she died, even though it's made Xander very sad and depressed and angry. {sniffs} 

****

UNS: [checks MemePad for bio on **AH**] Oh, I see here that she was someone Alexander was romantically involved with before Sun'dyl was destroyed. Tell me about her.

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AW: She's like, the perfect woman. Ever. Or was. {sniffs} She was a vengeance demon who decided to become human because she fell in love with Xander. She was supposed to grant a wish that would curse him but she couldn't do it because his heart was too pure. So when the other vengeance demons were all, "Ooooh, you have to do it or you'll loose all your powers," she lost her powers instead of destroying an innocent man. Xander was so touched that he offered to help her understand what it meant to be human and she fell in love with him and he fell in love with her.

****

UNS: [choking up] That's…that's just beautiful. That's…

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AW: {sniff} Their love was a beautiful pure love, but some of the other demons were jealous of their happiness. I think that's why Xander left her, because this one demon invaded their wedding when they were about to get married and did something to him. But I helped them find each other again by getting them to talk and stuff and Xander proclaimed his undying love for Anya and melted her angry, angry heart.

****

UNS: [softly] She died saving his life, didn't she?

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AW: {sniff} No. {sniff, sniff} She died saving **me.** When we were battling the First's minions, she was like Xena. She was wielding her sword and they all got really scared when she let out this scary war scream, but they weren't afraid of me, so she was fighting to save me and couldn't watch her back and then…and then…{sniff} Xander will never love again.

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UNS: I don't know what to… [surreptitiously wipes eyes with sleeves]

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AW: So, I've decided that in memory of Anya, I'm going to take care of Xander for the rest of his life. I owe him a debt of honor. He **needs **someone to help him. I mean, he's extraordinary and he does so much, but no one is good at everything. Sometimes he runs himself so low that he can't get up again, so I do my best to cheer him up, and keep our room clean, and make sure he eats properly, 'cause sometimes he forgets. 

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UNS: [frantically searches MemePad for bio on **AW**, makes note to find more infor about **AW** if/when **UNS **gets back to the office] What about the others?

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AW: Robin and Giles are not murderers, either, but then again, I don't know them very well. They're kinda busy, too, although not as busy as **Xander**. Plus, I've never roomed with them, so I don't get a chance to talk to them like I do Xander. But there was Spike…

****

UNS: "Spike?"

****

AW: Yeah. I'm surprised you don't know about **him** too since he died saving the **world**. He was known as William the Bloody the baddest of all bad vampires until he fell in love with Buffy, but she's like, "No, I'm a Slayer," and he's like, "But I love you more than anything," and she's like, "But I can't love you because you don't have a soul," and he's like, "Then I'll get one to prove my love to you."

****

UNS: [disbelieving] A **vampire **fell in love with a Slayer? That's just, just amazing!

****

AW: Well, he fell in love with her after he got this chip in his head, see? It would really hurt him if he tried to hurt a human, except this one time he bit me because the First was making the chip go haywire and making him kill using magic even though he had a soul now. But Buffy agreed to help him with the chip and the First and he was able to become a hero that saved the **world**.

****

UNS: I'm really, really confused. I thought the infusion of the Slayer power to all girls capable of claiming it was what actually saved the world.

****

AW: No, the world was saved by Spike's undying love for Buffy because he was willing to sacrifice everything to make sure she lived on. Buffy's and Spike's love was full of passion and glory, but it was a forbidden love and doomed to tragedy. Destiny brought them together, but destiny tore them from each other's arms just as they were about to declare their undying love for each other after wasting so much time about labels. See, Buffy was a Slayer and Spike was a…

****

UNS: I **understand **that part.

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AW: Plus, one of Buffy's allies, Angel, he's another vampire…

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UNS: Wait, wait…**another **vampire?

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AW: Well, he has a soul, too.

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UNS: Which he got for Buffy.

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AW: Which he got because of a curse. I think. I know when he doesn't have a soul, he's called Angelus.

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UNS: [checks MemePad for bio on **BS **sees deadlink ref for Angelus/Angel/Liam Keaton (shanshu); sees deadlink ref for William the Bloody/Spike makes note that **UNS really **needs to get back to the office] Right. Thank you for clearing that up. Still, I have to admit that Buffy must be quite the amazing woman to bring two vampires to the side of the light. The story about Spike is simply…words fail.

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AW: [nodding] Oh she **is.** Anyway, he gives her this amulet that'll help us defeat the First and Buffy gives the amulet to Spike because he's Obi-wan-her-only-hope to her Princess Leia and he wears it. Then Willow casts the spell, but it's not enough because the First is still winning and then this **light** brighter than a million suns comes out of the amulet and drives back the First, letting all of us retreat while the light eats him and all the evil creatures all up and closes the Hellmouth.

****

UNS: I, unh, see. So, if the Great Awakening spell didn't defeat the First, then why did…

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AW: Because no one knew what the amulet actually did. So Willow cast the…you called it Great Awakening spell? That's soooooo kewl. I'll have to tell Willow that.

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UNS: [quickly] Please don't.

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AW: [nods knowingly] Oh. Right. Temporal Prime Directive. 

****

UNS: [nodding enthusiastically] Yes. That's it.

****

AW: So, anyway, Willow cast the spell because all the new Slayers were going to fight the First and its evil minions, except they were losing. So the amulet must've been, like, a failsafe or something. 

****

UNS: In case the battle went poorly.

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AW: Yeah, which is soooo smart because it was like the perfect back-up plan.

****

UNS: But no one knew what the amulet did, you said.

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AW: When I say no one, I mean, like, everyone, except Buffy and Spike. I'm sure **they **knew what it did because using something powerful like that without knowing what it would do would be really stupid, like, _Highlander: Endgame_ stupid.

****

UNS: So why didn't they tell anyone else, you think?

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AW: [rolls eyes] In case the First had spies and was listening to the plan.

****

UNS: I guess that makes sense. So, where do you see yourself going from here, given your troubled past?

****

AW: I'm going to work very, very hard to prove that I belong here by helping Giles, and Robin, and Buffy, and Willow, and especially Xander reach their full potential because they are just amazing people and they do extraordinary things, but, like I said, they're just human and sometimes even they need help to get through life's little trials. If I can make their lives a little easier, whether it's making sure dinner's on the table or helping to fight the latest evil, then I've truly made a contribution to the good fight.

****

UNS: That's a most interesting view…

TBC…


	21. Well Met in Ambivelent Central

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Part 21: Well Met in Ambivalent Central

Buffy hated crowds these days.

Absolutely. Positively. Hated. Them. 

It wasn't that she was in love with them before because, hello! It used to be just mom, her, and her sister. Well, technically that wasn't true. She was an only child. Since she really didn't remember life without Dawn that other life really didn't count. But tripping over frightened young girls in her home—a home that had plenty of room for family and whatever friends decided to crash, but was very obviously not designed to comfortably house much more than that on a semi-permanent basis—knowing that some of them were going to die pretty much cemented her spot in the not liking crowds sweepstakes.

Crowd-dislike turned into crowd-hatred somewhere between Sunnydale and Cleveland. Something in her just snapped. Was it the bus ride that first night put her over the edge? Squishing between overtired bodies and overextended emotions as they jammed into junky, barely running used cars like the homeless gypsies they were? Night after night in hotel rooms sharing a bed with Dawn while the other girls camped out on the floor? 

She put her foot down when they hit Cleveland. She wanted her own room. Period. It was one of two times she stood up to Robin since the Sunnydale sinkhole drained her of her last emotional and mental reserves. The other was making sure Xander remained firmly on the patrol roster. Sure, Robin had a point that Xander wasn't the strongest fighter they had even before he lost the eye, and he also had a point that Xander had a blind spot half the side of his face, but still…props should go where they're due. And Xander was kinda due.

She lost on the room issue because there was a shortage of space and so Dawn was now her roommate, but she did win on the Xander issue.

She may have some small corner of her room to call hers, but she still felt the press of bodies even beyond her closed bedroom door. Funny how she went from the Chosen One, to the Chosen Two, to the Chosen Many. Funny how she just wasn't happy with any of those options.

Maybe being one of the Chosen Many would've been easier if she actually could learn to embrace the crowd, get over her trauma, dig the sisterhood vibe, and hire a very, very expensive therapist.

On second thought, therapist should be at the top of the list, preferably one who had never been taught by Professor Walsh or had heard of UC Sunnydale, because being treated for crowd-hatred by a therapist who had an evil professor? Too six degrees of separation for comfort.

Still, she at least had her friends. She thought. She wasn't sure. There were times since Sunnydale when she wanted to grab Xander or Willow or Giles and shake them while asking hysterically, "We're still friends, right? You still love me, right? **Right?**" The only reason why she didn't do it was because she was afraid one of them might come down with a case of honesty and shatter one of the few illusions she had left.

At least their faces stood out from the crowd, which made them less crowd-like and more people-like. She could talk to them, trade jibes with them, and be the Buffy they thought she was even when they were in a hemmed in from all sides. So she hid next to them because it was easier than dealing with the strangers that invaded her every waking moment. They could keep her from getting lost in the shuffle.

Buffy glanced at the bedside clock. The house meeting was in ten minutes. God, she **hated **house meetings if only because it involved putting her front of the crowd as one of the "inner circle," but she endured them because ditching them would be rude. _Oh, look. Buffy thinks the rules apply to everyone but herself._ So she showed and put on the smiley face. 

Right on time, Dawn threw open the door, hands on hips, foot tapping, and a mom-like expression that made Buffy simply hurt. "C'mon," she said in her best little sis bossy voice. "We're going to be late and I want a good seat."

"Dawn, your seat's next to mine, so I'm pretty sure the view's going to be just…"

"Buuuuuuuuuufffffeeeeeeeeeeeee."

The Slayer fixed her sister with a death glare while the girl giggled over getting under her skin. "You're planning to pop my eardrums aren't you? I knew it. You're plotting against me. You're going to make me deaf-Buffy so I don't hear you making plans to sneak out and meet boys in bowling alleys."

"No, I'm trying to make you deaf so you don't hear me working out a deal with my overage boyfriend to buy me booze so we can party at his friend's place where there'll be no adult supervision," Dawn sniffed.

"Dawn!"

"Heh. You are sooooo easy."

Buffy let out an affectionate growl and hopped off the bed.

"Besides, the party's at hishouse," Dawn said airily. 

"I'm going to believe you're joking."

Dawn patted Buffy's head, trying her best to keep her face completely straight. "As long as it makes you feel better and his bones don't get broken because my enraged Slayer sister is defending my untainted purity, it's all of the good."

"Ahhh, now we're trying to killme," Buffy verbally jabbed back as she headed for the library.

"And there isn't a jury who'd convict me," Dawn giggled. "Can you see it now? Manslaughter, reckless endangerment of human life through the use of words."

"You've been sneaking over to a friend's house to watch _Law & Order _repeats, haven't you?"

"I blame Robin for my wandering ways. He refuses to install cable."

"Maybe you, Andrew, and Xander should stage a hunger strike."

Dawn snorted with rolled eyes. "Oh, **that'll **work."

Buffy's response froze in her throat the second she hit the library threshold. _Gee granny, what a lot of people you have! All the better to swallow you up, my dear. Gee granny, let's not and say I went out on patrol to kill something icky._ She felt a poke in the small of her back and looked up into Dawn's worried eyes. Buffy could feel that her smile was strained as she said, "Just taking in the weirdness of it all. We're about to be briefed by future people. It's very science-y."

Dawn must've bought the nothing's-up-with-Buffy act because she snorted. "I think you mean science fiction-y. Or Star Trek-y. Geez, for someone whose life is one long replay of _Abbott and Costello Meet Dracula_, you'd **think** you'd get with the program by now."

"You've been talking to Andrew waaaaay too much," Buffy said absently as she forced herself to step into the room. She stopped. "Abbott and Costello?"

"Be glad I didn't say _Toxic Avenger_," Dawn giggled as she grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her forward. "And Xander corrupted me long before Andrew ever showed up, so blame the mansome carpenter and not the nervous nerd. It's because of **him **I know who Toxie and Abbott and Costello are." 

"Toxie?" Buffy asked. _Speaking of which…_ "Hey! Where's Xander?"

"Probably one of the girls grabbed him for something," Dawn said as she scanned the room. "Hunh, not here yet." She shrugged. "He'll show." She thought about it. "Unless a future where people think he's god's gift has freaked him into hiding under a bed, which would be soooo him. I better go check."

Buffy held on tight to Dawn's arm, checking the girl in her progress. "He'll be here. Let's just…hey! Seat next to Faith!" She dragged her squeaking companion the rest of the way and tossed both herself and Dawn into neighboring chairs.

"Decaf. Check it out sometime," Faith remarked without looking at them as she did her best to drape every limb over the chair arms. "Damn these seats suck."

"Might help if you sat up straight," Buffy replied.

"Thank you Emily Post. Not like I'm gonna wreck my back."

"How do **you **know what Emily Post…"

"Prison library. Reading about which fork to use for the salad helps pass the time."

"Oh, look! There's Lisa and Tammi," Dawn interrupted. "I promised them I'd score some info on getting a GED and the local community colleges from the guidance office at school."

Buffy again checked her sister. "Tell them afterwards."

Dawn gave Buffy a s'up-with-that look before carefully explaining, "The meeting might run late. 'Sides, I'm just gonna tell them the mother lode is on my desk and they can get it whenever."

"While you're over there, tell 'em I took the GED while doing time," Faith threw in, although this time she turned her head to look at Dawn. "Don't know if the test is different in this state or not, but I'm willing to spill for free."

Dawn flashed a grin at Faith, "Will do. Thanks." Then she bounded off through the bodies.

Buffy felt the cold rush of Dawn's absence and immediately mentally latched on to Faith. "**You** got your GED."

Faith was back to staring at the ceiling and pretending that she was very close to taking a nap in the stifling atmosphere. "Like I said, passed the time. Passed the test, too. Flying colors on the first try, believe it or not." Her head snapped upright. "Shit. Wonder if Angel erasing my prison record means I don't have my GED."

"Does it matter?" 

"Fuck yeah. I **earned **that," Faith scowled. The expression smoothed out with a shrug. "Screw it. I'm not going to bug Angel to find out. I'll just take it again. And if I got me two GEDs? Then I know the first time wasn't a fluke. Besides, two's gotta be better than one I figure."

"You know, I've been thinking about college again," Buffy said wistfully.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

Buffy looked up at the interruption and right into Catherine's coolly curious eyes and felt her voice freeze.

"Dawn's got dibs," Faith said. "Take a load off anyway, because she's social butterflying her way around the room so she might be awhile."

Catherine hesitated a brief second before saying, "Thank you." 

Buffy noticed that Faith got the same curious look from Catherine, although there was an added element to the gaze that resembled something like warmth.

As the Watcher—_Honoria?_—folded her tall frame into the vacant chair, she remarked, "Not exactly the most comfortable furniture I've ever used."

Faith was now sitting up and actively watching the new arrival, as if trying to penetrate the mystery that surrounded the woman. She gave Buffy a light swat on the arm, "Toldjya the chairs sucked."

"I'm curious," Catherine cautiously began. "There seems to be a strange boy wandering around the room with something held up to his face. I don't seem to recall his name, although I'm almost certain I heard it last night…well, you understand that everything was very confusing. I was wondering what he was doing."

"You'd **swear **he's got spell on him that makes people forget," Buffy muttered. "Took me a **year **to remember who he was, which is really weird considering all the trouble…"

"That'd be Andrew recording the meeting for posterity," Faith interrupted as she scanned the room for the current topic of conversation.

"Andrew," Catherine repeated. Buffy swore she saw Catherine's eyes shift to a darker shade of brown.

The tone was enough Faith for to switch her focus to Catherine. She hesitated for a brief second and, keeping her eyes on the other woman's face, deliberately added, "Andrew Wells."

Catherine's lips disappeared into a bloodless white line. God knows where—W_hat is his name? Oh, right_—J'Nal came from but he materialized behind Catherine and placed a firm, restraining hand on her left shoulder. The Watcher Honoria glanced up at her companion before stating, "I'm sorry. I don't recall the name from our archives. Did I understand that he's actually **recording **the meeting?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy could see Faith wasn't buying it either. "I take it that's on your 'do not let happen' list, hunh?" Buffy asked.

"J'Nal, if you would please ask Mr…Wells to please shut off his recording device." Catherine was back to whatever passed for everything's-normal-all-systems-go in her mind. "I'm certain if we mention the need to keep the timelines free of additional pollution…"

The witch hesitated a moment before giving Catherine a slight nod. 

"Make sure he didn't have a tape of you guys the other night," Faith added. "I think he was mumbling about hoping he remembered to stick a tape in the camcorder."

Now it was J'Nal's turn to go pale. "Thank you for letting me know," he said. As he turned away, he was halted by Catherine's voice.

"Make sure you keep your request **polite**," the Watcher Honoria mildly ordered.

"Polite" definitely sounded like a codeword to Buffy's sensitive hearing. She wondered if Catherine was unhappy with the presence of a camera or with Andrew himself. Honestly, she wasn't really sure **what **she saw in those eyes at the mention of Andrew's name, just like she really wasn't sure what Catherine really thought of herself.

"So, how are you doing? Fitting in okay?" That's right. Keep it light and polite. A little chatter never hurt anyone.

Catherine's gaze was dragged from J'Nal's back as he talked to an increasingly disappointed Andrew and she gave an almost-friendly smile to the blonde Slayer. "Fitting in isn't exactly the goal, but we are as comfortable as possible. Thank you, by the way. I'm not sure we'd be as accommodating in your position."

"Wills declared you all human and fit for mingling this morning," Buffy pointed out.

Catherine shrugged. "J'Nal would be the first to tell you that crystal-based readings can be fooled. And even if you **do **trust what it tells you, Willow didn't cast a spell to compel us to tell the truth."

"Burn!" Faith commented with a grin. "Want us to do it tomorrow? Cause I gotta tell ya, I got some questions about next week's Mega Millions numbers."

"Lottery goodness would definitely open up the piggy bank," Buffy agreed. "First thing I'd do? Mall. I'm sick of wearing Goodwill fashions. I'm telling you, they may call some of that stuff 'vintage clothing,' I just call it used."

"The main diff between Goodwill and vintage clothing is the price tag," Faith remarked, eyes not leaving Catherine's puzzled but amused face. Was it Buffy's imagination, or was Faith giving out the 'my-good-buddy-Buffy' vibes while Catherine was around? Weird if true, especially since Faith seemed to be The One in Catherine's eyes. "The deal is, you gotta buy from Goodwill, but claim you bought it from a snooty boutique near the college. No one will question."

"Until they see the $5 dollar price tag I forgot to remove."

"Ummm, this is all very interesting, but am I allowed to say no to the truth spell?" Catherine smoothly cut in. "The answers you get to questions in that situation can be very unpredictable and I don't want any of us to irreparably cause more harm to the time line."

Buffy's eyes widened and she joined Faith in studying Catherine's expression. "Wait. I thought…"

"We landed in the wrong time, so right there we may have inadvertently caused changes." Catherine looked down and began picking at her faux jeans. 

"Oh, shit," Faith breathed. Buffy turned to look at the other Slayer. The look on Faith's face indicated that something **had **happened already and that she was a witness.

"You see my problem," Catherine said. "Please pass on my apologies for any trouble I may have caused or anything I may have set in motion."

"How the hell can I do **that**?" Faith demanded. "And who am I supposed to pass that little nugget of go-to-hell to anyway?"

Catherine couldn't seem to meet Faith's eyes. "I'm sure we'll find out." She cleared her throat. "I see J'Nal is finished speaking to Mr. Wells. I should join my team. Ladies." She gave a nod, and vacated the seat just as Willow approached with the air of someone who'd just heard something too delish to keep to herself.

"Guess who's not coming," the witch said as she settled next to Buffy.

"That's Dawn's seat," Buffy said.

Willow waved her hand dismissively. "She's too busy getting the lowdown on what **I **just heard, so she might be…"

"What do you **mean **Xander isn't going to be here?" Robin's voice said behind her chair.

"Aaaaand that would be it," Willow deflated.

"Not here?" Buffy asked as she twisted around.

Giles looked as irritated as Robin looked annoyed. "As I keep trying to explain, Xander had to leave for…"

"For heaven's sake, this is an all-hands meeting and we need everyone here," Robin said.

Faith hadn't bothered to turn around, but that didn't seem to stop her from interfering. "I thought you didn't believe 'em."

"Part of the reason we need everyone here is to see if they notice anything suspicious," Robin tightly responded. "The more eyes we have on our guests while they're telling their story, the better."

"**If **you take a look at the attendees, I do believe that you'll notice that Vi and Rona are absent as well," said Giles in his best 'that's quite enough' voice. "As I have been **trying **to tell you, Xander had to leave for emergency reasons, specifically, to take Rona to the airport."

"What happened?" Robin asked.

"Her brother is being shipped into an overseas combat zone and Xander felt it was best to get her away as soon as possible," Giles said. 

"So why is Vi…" Robin began.

"Vi is Rona's closest friend and Xander was bound and determined that if Vi wanted to accompany them, then she was going," Giles explained.

"What did you say?" Robin asked.

"Well I certainly wasn't about to dissuade him, not that I could or was inclined to do so," Giles said shortly. "So you'll just have to accept that you'll have three less pairs of eyes."

"Unh, more like two-and-a-half," Willow corrected. When everyone looked at her, she added breathlessly, "Nevermindthreepairsitis."

"Did he say when he'd be back?" Buffy asked.

Giles gave a slight smile. "I do believe he said we shouldn't wait up."

Robin took a deep breath. "Well, I can't argue with the reasons, but he still should've informed me."

"I'm pretty sure today is the wrong day for you to be making that assumption," Faith said mildly, still steadfastly keeping her gaze on the jabbering girls.

Oh, yeah. Definite tension there. Wonderful. Faith had another fight with Robin. Buffy didn't have the energy to ask what it was about this time, although she was pretty sure Willow would be cornering her later with speculation on cause, subject, and whether this was the One Before the Big One that would blow the lid off the brownstone.

__

I've become a sad little mini-Buffy, Buffy thought_. Jeez, I hope Andrew, Xander, or Giles would get a love life already because I'm soooo sick of talking about Faith and Robin behind their backs. At least if something happened with **them **I'd get a whole **new **group of people to talk about behind their backs. Plus, bonus, if Xander gets a date, odds are I'll get to Slay her just before she tries to eat him, so, more fun for me **and **I get to perform a community service._

"…talk to him." Robin's resigned voice broke Buffy out of her own mind.

"And once again, you're misunderstanding the source of my being not happy with you," Faith said.

"Children, we are trying to present a professional front to our visitors and your infernal, nonstop bickering is not making matters any easier. Honestly, right about now I'm prepared to believe that Xander is the only adult in this house besides myself," Giles snapped. He turned to go, "Now if you don't mind? Robin?"

Robin hesitated a fraction of a second to say, "Faith, I thought we **agreed **not to air dirty laundry in public."

Faith finally deigned to look up at her partner. "I wasn't airing **our **dirty laundry, just pointing out that when you give attitude, you gotta expect it in return."

Robin held up his hands, "I'm not talking about this now." He then stalked off after Giles.

"What happened?" Willow half-demanded.

Faith kicked a foot. "Forget it. It's Robin's deal. Let him deal."

"But…"

"Drop it." Faith emphasized her point with a glare.

Since Buffy mentally tuned out for part of the conversation, she immediately focused on the hint that someone just may have interfered in a bad way. "Faith? What happened with Catherine?"

The other Slayer's mouth twitched in irritation. "Leave it alone. It probably doesn't mean shit, so I figure the best bet is to just pretend nothin' happened."

"Faith…" Buffy pushed.

"Look, it's nothing, all right?" Frustration and a physical attempt to stop more questions moved Faith to fling a leg over an arm of the chair so her back was to Buffy.

"I'll take notes for Xander," Willow volunteered.

"Jeanne's already got it covered," Faith commented without turning around.

"Jeanne?" Willow asked. "I'm about to show my powers of unobservation by asking this, but which one is she?"

"Dishwater blonde who was fighting with us back in the day," Faith vaguely waved in a distant corner.

Buffy followed her gesture and saw a knot of four girls goofing on each other. Only one was armed with a notepad and pens, one of which was stuck behind her ear and the other poised and ready to take notes. "How come **she **knew Xander had left when I only just heard about it?" she asked.

"She was there when Xander came in with Rona." Faith still hadn't turned around. "She came up to me and volunteered after. Said she knows shorthand and'll type the notes up soon as we're done."

"Why would she do that?" Buffy asked. "I mean, taking dictation doesn't exactly sound like something I'd want to do because…"

A shrug from Faith. "Xander's off playing boy scout for Rona and Vi, so what's the big deal if someone wants to girl scout him a favor to show their appreciation?"

"That's just Xander being Xander," Buffy pointed out. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't see it like he's doing anyone a big favor so I don't get why you think it is."

"Didn't say I did," Faith said shortly. "Still, he didn't have to do it, right?" 

"Look, I'm just saying he'd do it for anyone. I mean, I can understand Rona and Vi maybe doing something nice to say thank you, but why would Jeanne even care?" Buffy slapped her head. "Wait, Jeanne's friends with them, right?"

Faith strained her neck over her shoulder to look at Buffy and Willow. "B, I know Willow doesn't know who the hell she is, but do you?"

"I do remember her." When Willow raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question, Buffy protested, "I **do**. I just don't know her that well."

Something that looked an awful lot like amusement twitched in Faith's face. 

"Faith, you have to admit that…well, does **Xander** even know who she is?" Willow asked.

"What do you want to bet that Xander not only remembers who she is, but he even knows something about her that none of us know?" Faith asked.

"Not a chance," Buffy said. "Andrew maybe, because he's practically one of the girls. But Xander? He doesn't do girly gossip. He might be connect-y with face and name, but I just can't see him doing the facials-and-girl-talk bit."

Faith licked her lips. Now she was **definitely **looking like she was trying not to laugh. "Anyone wanna take my bet?"

"I'll take it."

"Willow!" Buffy exclaimed.

"Buffy? C'mon. Faith's practically begging you to notice that she's pulling your leg," Willow said. "I'm game. I'm saving for memory upgrade for the laptop and I could use the cash."

"Twenty bucks," Faith said without hesitation.

"Thirty," Willow countered.

"Don't do it, Will," Buffy warned. "My Slayer sense tells me that Faith knows something we don't."

Willow's eyes narrowed into a glare at Faith. "I **know **Xander's not exactly in a noticing women frame of mind, so I don't appreciate what Faith's hinting."

Faith flipped to sitting upright and glared back. "Not hinting shit. Even I'm not that fucking crass that I'd say Xander's trying to score a piece of jailbait ass before the body's cold. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even notice that most of the people in this house have tits."

"Just so we're clear," Willow said evenly. 

Faith gave Willow a slow-eyed blink and then shrugged it off, good humor back in place. "Nice guard dog routine. Good to know his sistah is watching out for his rep."

"Working on it," Willow admitted as she relaxed. "Bet still stands, though. I win if all he knows is face and name."

Faith grinned. "You're on."

TBC…


	22. And That’s Just the Beginning of the Sto...

****

Part 22: And That's Just the Beginning of the Story…

The sound of someone loudly clearing his throat while knocking on a wooden tabletop interrupted any further betting between witch and Slayer. The ambient noise in the room died down as the girls shushed each other and found their seats. Dawn waved at Buffy as she settled next to Kennedy, an indication that Willow could stay put.

Buffy re-focused her nervous attention to her right and fought down the irritation that it was **Robin **standing patiently at the head of the room while Giles continued to quietly confer with the visiting doctor. _What right does he have? **Giles** is the Watcher, not Robin,_ she thought with a stab of resentment_._

Really, she needed to deal with the fact that things were changing, correction, **had **changed. If Giles didn't have a problem with Robin taking the lead on this meeting, then she should roll with it. 

Despite the fact she was convincing herself to stop mentally building a mountain out of the anthill, she still bit her tongue so hard that it hurt as Robin called the meeting to order.

"As we all know," Robin began, "our visitors claim to be humans from the future…"

Buffy sensed Willow shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"…and that they are here on an urgent mission and apparently we here in the distant past are the only people who can help them."

__

When you put it that way that sounds like a deep shade of impossible, Buffy thought. Maybe she was just a little too willing to take their visitors at their word. Even Catherine pointed out that she'd be more suspicious in their situation. _Yeah, don't take the 'friendly advice' at face value. If these guys are feeding us a line, all that warning does is make the lies more plausible because the best lies are the ones that have a little truth mixed in for flavor._

Buffy narrowed her eyes and concentrated. Much as she may chafe at times with Robin as take-charge man, he **did **have a point. They **all **needed to pay attention and make like a Sherlock for those little things that don't add up. She noticed Catherine's expression was cemented into a detached mask. _Oh, yeah. She totally picked up that Robin thinks she's pulling a three card monte._

Her attention was so fixed on Watcher woman that she jumped when the doctor began speaking. Sheesh. She was too concentrate-y on the leader that she didn't even see the other guy move to stand next to Robin. She needed to watch the tunnel vision.

"As you all know, my name's Dr. Charles Ravensgood," the man began. "You can all just call me Charlie. I'm the official spokesperson for tonight. I consulted with Giles," here the man nodded gratefully in the Watcher's direction which won him one or two points in Buffy's book, "to determine how we can best explain what we need in terms we can all understand."

A hand shot up from the crowd.

"Dawn Summers," Charlie acknowledged.

Dawn hopped to her feet so the room could hear her. "How are you going to ask for help without spilling the good stuff? About the future I mean. Because I think you're going to be giving something away that you shouldn't just by talking to us."

"Good question," Charlie nodded. "You're right. Some things are going to, ummm, get out. But we're doing our best to keep it to a minimum. Does that answer your question?"

"For now." Dawn took her seat with a thoughtful face.

"Any more questions?" Charlie asked. When he was met with a round of silence he cleared his throat and began, "As we explained, probably not coherently because everyone was a little confused, we're from 834 years in the future, we're human, and we live on colonies settled by our ancestors who were from Tar…I mean Earth. There are some similarities between our time and yours: there are multiple Slayers and there are Watchers who train them and work with them. There are other differences, but we won't get into that."

"Because you can't tell us even a single thing about the future," said an unidentified female voice from the back of the room.

"Exactly," Charlie nodded, clearly not understanding that the wit was making a weak joke. "Suffice to say one other thing is similar, Watchers and Slayers keep journals."

"Oh, man!" Buffy thought the girl who spoke was called Maria. "Now we gotta do homework on top of fighting and training? That royally sucks!"

This declaration was greeted with a round of titters and a few muttered comments that they were sure that **someone **was going to make them start taking Comp 101 classes so they could write perfect little diaries.

"Ladies!" Robin shouted through the noise. "Please let Charlie talk."

Buffy let out a sigh of relief as the noise died down. She was torn on the journal issue. She wasn't psyched about the idea of writing a diary just so other people could read it. On the other hand, there were times while reading the Watchers' journals that she wished she could get the Slayer's side of the story.

"Thank you," Charlie said as he cast a worried glance at his crew. They looked a little taken aback by the general outburst. Ruda's face registered confusion over the fact that these other girls **weren't** expected to write things down. 

The doctor forged ahead. "Catherine has in her possession a journal," here the woman in question held up a leather-bound book over her head in what Buffy thought was a parody of show-and-tell, "that records time travelers visited two of your number in Moscow 2008 to ask for help. The entry lists a number of bare-bone facts about the visitors, why they were there, what they were looking for, and the end result. This one single entry has confused archivists for centuries simply because everyone knew time travel was impossible. It was assumed that the people involved were probably lied to by persons unknown."

"So how'd you figure out the real score?" Kennedy shouted her question from her seat. 

"The first time someone made a _Quantum Leap_," Andrew answered before Charlie opened his mouth. 

Willow leaned over and sing-songed softly into Buffy's ear, "Caaaaan you feeeeeel the Baaaaakula love?"

"Stop it," Buffy tittered back. "Way to ruin a perfect _Lion King_ moment, Will. Wait. That wasfrom the _Lion King_, right?" 

"I, uh, ummmm, not sure what you're talking about there," Charlie said as he regarded Andrew with alarm. "We're actually the first to travel back in time."

"Anyone else smell a disaster movie in the making?" Faith asked in an undertone. 

"Right there with ya," Willow agreed.

"Like the disaster movie we deal with every May isn't enough, we now get to celebrate with a whole new disaster movie every time we change seasons?" Buffy humphed. "I say we find a place where there are no seasons because I **really **don't want to do this again."

"Ladies," Robin's voice whip-cracked through the conversation.

Three heads turned and met Robin's glare.

Charlie cast Robin an unreadable look before continuing. "As I said, a lot of what we 'know' about the time travel is theoretical. In simplified terms, we were supposed to go back to Moscow 2008, interact with the people we needed to interact with, get an important mystical object, and get back to our own time to deal with a crisis. Now, since this is not Moscow, and since this is not 2008, you know something went wrong."

"You don't say," Jeanne piped up.

"To make this as simple as possible, when we landed wrong we still had a chance to rectify the situation provided we didn't interact with anyone or anything from this time period. Unfortunately, a vampire found us before we got our bearings…"

"That's right. The vampire started it. Tell them, doc," Ruda nodded aggressively.

"…aaaaaand Ruda beheaded it," Charlie needlessly added, although Buffy noticed he gave the Slayer an affectionate smile. "Which means we can't re-insert ourselves in this timeline and we can't leave for another six standard days because of, ummm, magic issues."

"Actually…" J'Nal began.

"Magic issues it is!" Catherine interrupted. "Works for me."

"But that's not one hundred percent…"

"J'Nal," Catheirne's voice sounded pleasant, but it had a pleading threat hidden in it, "is it **basically **correct? And can we make it any more clear **without **saying something we shouldn't?"

J'Nal's face twitched. "Magic issues. Good one. I'll go with it."

"What Charlie is trying to say is that our visitors were faced with an impossible task," Giles interrupted. "They could try to survive in a place they knew nothing about for another week and return home empty-handed, or they could ask us, or rather two of our number, for help."

"Thank you, Giles," Charlie said, grateful to be getting back on track. "We discovered two standard years ago that the questionable entry in this journal might have basis in fact when some of the events it listed came about."

He paused dramatically, expecting questions. He seemed disappointed when no one spoke up, so he dove into it. "The population of one our outer colonies seemed to simply vanish. When Central Administration sent investigators, they found that the most of the colonists were killed. The survivors…" his voice trailed off in a shudder.

Buffy saw Ruda lean into Catherine for comfort as the girl's Watcher placed an arm around her shoulder. Catherine's hold seemed at once protective and possessive as she drew the Slayer tightly to her, her hand practically forming a claw as if she were afraid Ruda would be snatched away from her by forces unknown. 

That one little act was enough to convince Buffy of two things: one, their guests were telling the truth, at least as much of the truth they could tell, and two, whatever was happening in the future probably made their battle with the First look like a Kindergarten brawl. 

Charlie gathered himself. "The very few survivors seemed to be under a thrall. They attacked the team of investigators. Some were killed, some came under the thrall when they were bit, one person, the Slayer on the team, escaped and managed to get a message to Central before she died from her wounds."

The temperature dropped in the room at this and Buffy realized she was hugging herself. She forced her posture to relax and her expression into neutral. _How many people,_ she wondered, _how many were killed and how many enslaved?_ And just how bad was it 834 years in the future that someone somewhere thought to give the impossible a try?

__

Bad enough. She knew that. God knows she knew that because she'd felt it herself when she was backed into a corner by the First, stressing herself into believing that she was the only one who could save the day, and feeling utterly alone and defensive when everyone but Spike began pointing out that her judgment may be the tiniest bit flawed.

The flash of insight gave her a mental jump. Maybe Robin was wearing her pair of Pradas when it came to his recent actions and attitude. After all, he also had something that no one could share: the horror of a Slayer mother being killed in a fight. She fought down the guilt over not twigging to that before and for maybe not being as understanding as she could've been when Robin tried to stake Spike. But Spike was **needed**, goddamn it, and her faith in Spike was **not **misplaced at the end of the day.

__

Stop it. Concentrate. No point, Buffy ordered herself as she refocused her attention on the present. She was surprised to realize that she was still enveloped in that deathly silence. Charlie looked like he was trying to find the words to say what he needed to say next. The room gave him its undivided attention.

"It happened again after that. And again. Something was taking over the outer colonies one colony at a time and there was no rhyme or reason to the targets." Charlie cleared his throat. "Thankfully, people under the thrall reverted to an almost animalistic state. They couldn't operate anything more technologically advanced than a rock, which meant they couldn't get off planet. Had that happened…" Charlie's voice trailed off as he shuddered. "The way to think of it is like a disease? Plague?" He looked at Giles who gave him an encouraging nod. "Had the people under this thrall been able to leave, they'd be able to reach other planets and…"

"Bite people like a vampire and turn them into demons like themselves?" Dawn asked as she hopped to her feet.

Charlie looked pained. "Not exactly. Central Authority, working with the Prima and Council Honoria and representatives from the Council Educationary managed to capture one of the thralls." Giles placed a water bottle in front of the doctor, who stared at it for a moment before taking it, twisting the cap off and taking a swig. "They weren't turned into demons. They're still human, no sign of a demonic presence."

Buffy sat bolt upright. _Wait! Did I just hear that there are **two** Councils?_ Maybe one was to train Slayers and one was to send out field Watchers. But the way Charlie put it—one Council was totally involved and the other only sent reps to help them figure it out—told her that whatever the relationship between the two was, it wasn't that simple. She looked around the room to see if anyone noticed the slip. Everyone was too busy looking horrified; their minds stuck on the fact that it was possible to be possessed without actually being possessed.

"Oh god," someone's voice whispered.

Charlie gave J'Nal and Giles a despairing look. "The best way to explain it is, ummm, a soul sickness?" 

J'Nal didn't seem entirely comfortable with the explanation and Giles's forehead was furrowed in thought. 

Giles finally volunteered, "As I understand it, and please do correct me if I'm wrong, that these people under thrall are somehow being controlled. It's as if their minds and souls were, how should I put it, locked away?" He looked to J'Nal for confirmation who seemed slightly more comfortable with Giles's explanation. "Whatever is controlling the bodies is doing so as if it's a puppet master. It is believed, and once again, I do beg you to correct me if I get this incorrect, that the individual is locked inside the enslaved body and unable to regain control."

The future crew looked to J'Nal who nodded with a little relief. "Very close. Very close, especially given that some of the magical and spiritual concepts are very advanced. It's more than sufficient. A most excellent explanation, Wise Giles-rah."

Giles stepped back in surprise while a murmur circled the room. Buffy resisted the urge to smile with relief. _Count on Giles to figure it out with his big brain of his,_ she thought, _and good for him that he gets is own rah-rah section. And check it out, yet another slip of the future tongue._

"I'm sure you tried this," Willow interrupted, "but I'd feel stupid if I didn't ask. What about simply breaking the soul or mind out of its prison? Or at least giving it a chance to regain control of the body? If magic is involved, there's always a counter-spell."

"Provided you know about the original spell and that a spell is involved," J'Nal answered. "We're still not entirely sure how the thralling process works."

"But we did try as you suggested," Charlie inclined his head in Willow's direction. "And don't feel stupid for asking because it's a fair question. The fact is we, or rather, the Prima have tried spells repeatedly on the few thralls we've been able to capture alive and nothing works."

"The only people immune to the thrall are Slayers and the Prima, which is why anyone in these two classifications are killed whenever this Great Darkness descends on a planet," Catherine added. "Everyone else is fair game."

Now it was Ruda's turn to put a protective arm around Catherine's waist. 

"How many people are we talking about dead and wounded?" Kennedy asked.

"Does it matter?" Tammi asked. "One **town **is bad enough when you **know **not everyone got out alive."

Buffy fought the urge to slink down into her seat. Spike, Anya, Chloe, and Amanda right off the bat counted as four. She knew Xander's parents had high-tailed it to Vegas and that Willow's parents were out of town when the end came, but Tammi was right: no telling who decided to be stupid and stick around to the bitter end.

Charlie swallowed hard. "You have to understand, most of these outer colonies were rather small. Some consisted of little more than a few settlements. On average, maybe less than 500 million people per planet affected? I would guess by the time we left, you may be talking a ten or so planets with a total population of roughly 4 billion. At a guess, 75 percent of those people are dead."

Buffy felt her stomach drop. The numbers were huge, too big for her to understand. This was tragedy in the abstract, statistics that didn't make sense because when you start running out of fingers and toes when counting the dead they become a faceless and formless crowd. If whatever was out there eating planets was taking a crack at destroying real estate? Every one of those people would remain that way.

She chanced glancing around the room. More than a few of the girls had taken on a glassy-eyed stare. She saw Dawn blink owlishly in her seat. Kennedy's eyes were narrowed as she studied Charlie. She didn't dare look at Faith, especially since she was pretty sure the other Slayer had stopped breathing. To her left she could hear Willow's breath hitching.

__

Oh, yeah. If anyone here knows what this really means, Willow does. She nearly wiped out the…

"E-e-e-e-e-e-e-excuse me?" Willow's voice was tremulous strand of spider's silk in the silence. "Could this be caused by, say, a really angry witch running on Hellmouth juice?"

Buffy slowly turned her head to see her friend's expression. Willow looked deathly pale, her eyes wide with a suspicious shine of unshed tears, chin wrinkling with the effort to keep her expression from collapsing in on itself. 

Catherine sat up straight, watching Willow with her too guarded expression through eyelids lowered to half-mast, while Ruda, Charlie, and Tikri exchanged confused looks. _Well, well, well, someone knows something about Willow,_ Buffy thought. She reached out and grabbed one of Willow's hands in her own, keeping her eyes focused on the Watcher Honoria.

In response, Catherine inclined her head as if recognizing Buffy's protective gesture for what it was and relaxed, eyes not leaving Willow's face.

"We also thought of that," J'Nal said as he regarded the redhead with something akin to chagrin. Catherine didn't react, although the others on her team snapped their eyes to the witch, every expression registering shock. 

"However, for a single witch, or coven, to pull this off, they would have to draw on and release enormous power with no guarantee they'd survive," J'Nal continued. His shoulders hunched under the continued gaze of his teammates. "The draw and the residual aftermath would leave an energy signature. The Great Darkness comes from nowhere and leaves without a trace."

Charlie's mouth opened and closed a few times as he tore his eyes away from J'Nal. When he finally found his voice, he said, "Think of it as null space. There's no energy, mystical or scientific, expelled or left behind."

"So you have no clues," Kennedy said from her seat, eyes still narrowed as she studied the guests.

Buffy had a sneaking suspicion that Kennedy was joining Robin on the "they're lying" side of the argument. It was hard to tell where everyone else fell. At a guess, she'd peg Willow as believing it and Giles seemed to be willing to give it a fair hearing. As for her? She had no idea **what **she should think. Saving one planet was hard enough, but more than one located god knows where? When there's already ten destroyed? What could she possibly do to stop it?

__

The bigger question is do I **not **want to believe it because I don't think I can do anything about it? Score one for the newish, slightly usedish Mature Buffy. 

"Here's what we do know for fact: one moment everything is normal. Chatter traffic from the colony is flowing on all channels. Then everything cuts off, like someone throwing a switch, and the planet literally 'goes dark,'" Charlie explained. "There are no radiation signatures, no echoes of any radio waves, just," here he snapped his fingers, "nothing. And there are no survivors capable of communicating what happened."

"People must be panicking." Dawn was on her feet again. "You probably have a lot of people fleeing for what they think are safer planets or something because there's no way you're keeping this a secret. I bet you've got a **huge **refugee problem and between that and the panic that's got to be causing civil unrest."

Charlie sputtered a bit before admitting, "That's a good guess. How…"

"I read the newspaper and it's kind of a pattern here on earth," Dawn pointed out. "Oh. And if this doesn't make me sound **too **much like a geek, repeated _Babylon 5_ viewings with Xander." 

"Dawn and Andrew and Xander doing a threesome in a tree," Faith quietly singsonged. 

Buffy snapped off her sharp comment before it reached her mouth. Faith's face was drawn and the patented amusement with everything not Cool Faith was missing from her eyes. She was half-tempted to ask the other Slayer if she'd been taking Bad Jokes as a Way of Dealing lessons from certain absent persons.

"In either case, this part we're all," here he indicated his group with a sweep of his arm, "taking on faith: the questionable entry in the journal Catherine showed you. When we started desperately searching the archives to see if this had ever happened anywhere before, this journal and its puzzling entry kept coming to researchers' attention because it said these suspicious visitors claimed to face a similar problem. Needless to say, the Haa…noria founding families were consulted extensively to find any supporting evidence that might not have made it into the official record."

"Unfortunately, we—I mean the Council families—didn't have much more than what was in the record," Catherine added quickly.

Buffy couldn't help rolling her eyes. The Slayer line may have opened up, but count on the Watchers to hold on to their place with a death grip. They were still apparently born to play the part and no Slayer's Scythe was ever going to change that it seemed. Even though finding the surviving Watchers was a distant secondary priority, this little slip of Catherine's tongue was enough to make her want to beg Giles to drop the idea and hand the job to people who actually did something to earn it.

"The short story is this," Charlie began, "According to this journal entry, we," he waved at his group, "went back in time to Moscow 2008 and met up with two members of this group. We explained about the Great Darkness and that it had never happened in human history before. We then told them that according to this entry there was only one thing that could save us: the Grail."

"Just like Camelot!" Andrew shouted.

"The comparisons to the ancient mythology of King Arthur have not gone unremarked," J'Nal said.

"Nice to know we've got something in common," Willow muttered.

"Since we can't actually **show **you the contents of the journal, mostly because there is information in it that may pollute the timeline even more, I can give you the highlights of what it says," Charlie began. "The first item we have to find is the Arrow That Points the Way. This is key because its sole purpose is to lead us to the Grail."

"What is it? Where can we find it?" Buffy asked.

Charlie shifted. "We **believe** it is a mystical weapon or compass that changes color and makes a screaming noise when approaching the Grail."

"Don't you know?" Willow asked. "What does your journal say about it?"

"That it's yellow," Catherine answered. "And it's located here in Cleveland."

Murmurs of surprise followed this revelation.

"Where?" Robin asked.

"We don't know," Catherine admitted. "Just that it's somewhere in this metrolocale."

So they have to find an arrow somewhere in Cleveland, a city that they were all still learning to navigate beyond knowing the shortest routes between the brownstone and the Flats, the Warehouse District, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the mall in Tower City Center, and all the cemeteries. Even better, no one knows what this arrow actually looks like—beyond the fact that it's yellow and screams—or how it actually works.

Piece. Of. Cake.

Riiiiiiight.

And her name is Lola and she's really a showgirl at the Copa. 

"The real problem, as I understand it from Giles," here Charlie gave Giles a despairing look, "is the Grail's location."

"Back up," Kennedy ordered from her seat. "Tell us more about this Grail."

"According to our journal, the Grail can be used as a focus to reverse the effects of the thrall and gives us a chance of fighting back against the Great Darkness," J'Nal answered.

"We have a sketchy description of what it looks like, but we need to find the Arrow first before we get into it," Charlie added.

"If this thing is powerful enough to do something about this Great Darkness of yours, why should we give it to you?" Kennedy asked. "Sounds like it's a trinket for massive mojo and you're basically asking us to believe that we don't need it so we should be handing it to you because you claim you need it more."

Robin gave Kennedy the kind of smile a teacher reserves for a class pet. 

Buffy glanced at Willow and noticed her friend frowning at her girlfriend. _Oh, yeah. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall tonight when the two of them start talking alone. Then again: tongue piercing, so maybe not._

"All the information we gave you is all the information we have," Charlie explained. "The journal…"

"Which you can't show us," Kennedy interrupted.

"But…" Charlie began.

"You can't blame us for being suspicious," Robin joined in.

"No, we really can't," Catherine agreed. The look on her face said it all: she really hated the fact that she had to give Robin anything resembling credit for brains. "As I said to Buffy earlier, we'd certainly be suspicious in your place."

"Is your agreement supposed to win us over?" Robin asked. 

Catherine got to her feet, but instead of addressing Robin directly, she turned her face to the crowd of Slayers as if they were the only jury that mattered. "We are asking a lot from you, we know that. We're asking you to take a leap of faith, the kind of leap that requires you to trust strangers with outlandish stories who will never ever be able to offer proof that your faith is justified. We're asking you to help us in a scheme that even **we **are not entirely sure will work. If we were in your shoes, I guarantee you that we'd not only be asking the same questions, but would be testing everything that it would be in our power to test before we'd even let us make our case. 

"But here's the point: we're mere mortals," she spread her arms slightly, her hands palm up in supplication, "and we don't have much to offer. We are weak and we are desperate. The only thing we have you: your kindness, your strength, and your bravery." Her eyes swept the room, including everyone in the glance. "You, **all **of you, are better than our suspicious mortal selves. You are what we aspire to. You who have fought on faith and hope for years, you who continue to fight in the belief that tomorrow will be better, upon you we build our hope. We believe—no—we know that we will succeed if you trust us enough to help us."

She looked down. "You're questioning us, that's smart. You're looking for holes in our story that would paint us as liars. That's smart, too. I understand if you don't believe in us, **I **wouldn't believe in us either. But do know this much: we believe in you." 

Years later Buffy would admit that the most awe-inspiring thing she'd ever seen were the looks on the faces of every Slayer in the house in the ringing silence that followed. Spines had straightened, shoulders had squared, and every girl—whether they were in Sunnydale at the end or not—looked like they were seriously considering Catherine's petition as if they were the only ones who could decide yay or nay.

And even after Buffy knew everything she was ever going to know about this singular event, she'd point to this one moment as the moment where **everything **changed. Well, maybe not changed, but set to rights.

Maybe some things really are destined after all.

One by one, the girls got to their feet until most of the room was standing. Buffy realized she had joined them somewhere in there and that Faith was standing next to her. The quarter of the Slayers still sitting, which included Kennedy and Maria, looked distinctly unhappy once the movement stopped and pin-drop silence was regained.

Giles had an odd smile on his face as he scanned the room. Dawn remained seated as she looked around her in wonder. Robin seemed somewhat taken aback, but didn't speak. Willow also stayed in her seat with only a quiet "wow" giving away her thoughts. It made sense in a way: this moment wasn't for them.

Catherine's group looked tense.

"The ayes have it," Buffy said. God knows how she knew, she just **knew**.

"Yup, looks like you got yourself an army," Faith agreed. She turned to Catherine who sagged in relief. "But we're gonna be checking you along the way to keep you honest."

"Willow will help you find the arrow because she's research girl," Buffy said. "Throw Xander in with because he probably knows the city better than any of us."

"Once we find this arrow, we regroup and talk some more," Faith added.

"Not to break the mood here on anything," Dawn said as she remained seated. "But where **is **this grail? You said its location is a problem."

Charlie blinked at the assemblage as the girls began slowly taking their seats. "Oh. Yes. The Grail. It's in Moscow."

The repeated disbelieving question "Moscow?" spun around the room.

"But don't worry!" Charlie held up his hands. "Not all of you are required to go. In fact, because we're desperately, and I do mean desperately, trying to keep the timeline as unpolluted as possible, we can only take two of you."

Robin crossed his arms and casually asked, "Which two?"

Now it was Ruda's turn to stand up straight radiating pride. Catherine grinned and put a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"The first person is Faith Lanoire," Charlie said.

To her eternal shame, Buffy felt a flood of warm relief at that. **This **time the burden wasn't on her shoulders. She dared to turn her head to look at Faith.

The other senior Slayer had frozen, one leg thrown over the arm of her chair, face pale with shock, body language locked in the classic fight-and-fight-some-more muscle freeze. 

Oh, yeah. There wasn't enough money in the **universe** to convince Buffy that she should be wearing Faith's Baby Docs. This tall order was just a **little **too tall for her taste and given that she dealt with the last eight or nine apocalypses, Faith could take this one and run with it in good health as far as Buffy was concerned.

Robin gave Faith an encouraging smile, uncrossed his arms, stood up straight and asked a question where the answer was pretty self-evident. "Who's the other person?"  


Catherine's grin changed to what could only be described as a sardonic smile as Charlie answered, "The other person is Alexander LaVelle Harris."

"LaVelle?" Willow asked.

Buffy burst into nervous hysterical laughter at this, completely missing the poisonous looks half the younger Slayers glared at her. 

The truly sad thing was that Buffy wasn't laughing because Xander was being asked to save a whole lot of planets and possibly the entire human race. It was the fact that he was being asked to do it with **Faith, **of all people, in a convoluted buddy-cop-movie kind of way. 

And the other reason? She was snorting like a water buffalo in heat because the look on Robin's face was simply **priceless**.

TBC…


	23. The Three Faces of Xander Harris

****

Part 23: Three Faces of Xander Harris

Xander glanced at the dashboard clock, vaguely registered that it read 12:05 a.m., and killed the engine. As the day's events caught up with him, he resisted letting his head drop to the steering wheel with a resounding thunk. If he did that, he was pretty damn sure he'd fall asleep in the driver's seat still wearing a seatbelt.

__

Note to self: spending almost six hours at an airport on stand-by is not the most relaxing way to spend your time. 

He initially relegated himself to shepherding Rona and Vi through Hopkins from a distance. At first, the girls leaned on each other as Vi tried mightily keep up Rona's flagging spirits. When it got to be too much for her, Xander had to step in with his own brand of chin-up reassurances.

At some point the three of them wound up sitting in a puppy pile on uncomfortable seats, one Slayer installed on each side of their teddy-bear-for-the-day. 

The mental and emotional effort of keeping a stiff upper lip while Rona and Vi slowly fell to pieces really didn't hit him until Rona finally landed a spot on a Southwest flight to Austin and gave them a final tear-filled backwards glance before she disappeared through security. While Vi strained her neck to watch Rona's retreating back, Xander called Willow to give her the latest news and make sure someone would be waiting for Rona at the other end.

Miracle of miracles, Rona's brother would be the man to do it. Three cheers for **something **going right.

Frankly, if he didn't have to deal with Vi, he probably would've pulled up a corner table and catnapped before even attempting to drive home.

A sad sniff served to pull him a little more into alert status and he glanced over at his traveling companion. Rona and Vi were tighter than most sisters. They'd adopted each other after Sunnydale as Vi, who at least had a Watcher and some training before she ended up at Camp Summers, helped Rona adjust to the weird world of vampires and other things that go bump in the night. Rona, for her part, seemed hell-bent on inserting some kind of coolness gene into the sweet girl who pretty much thought that Jessica Simpson was the Next Hot Thing to shake the music scene.

A house meeting without Vi and Rona sitting in a corner giggling and whispering together was just not going to be a house meeting.

"You okay?" Xander croaked.

He sensed a slight nod.

"Once Rona gets in with her family in Oregon, what say we shake you loose for a visit?"

The offer was enough to get Vi to look at him, her expression shadowed in the dim light. He noticed she was still clutching the crumpled paper with Rona's email address in her right hand.

__

Jesus, did I **ever **look that young? Xander wondered. "Unless you want to visit your family instead? Scratch that. When our crazy-but-lovable visitors Dr. Who themselves back to whenever they came from, why don't we make arrangements for you to spend time on your homestead and throw a side visit to Rona in the bargain."

"But…"

"No buts. Outside of a few days after Sunnydale went bye-bye, none of us have taken time off. We'll work up a schedule for vacay so everyone gets a shot at taking a break and I'll make sure your name's at the top of the list."

"But what about Robin?"

Xander squelched a curse. This iron-hand general business **had **to stop. First Buffy, now Robin. "I'm sure Robin won't have issues," he said with more certainty than he really felt. "Let me worry about it. We'll work it out, okay?"

"Okay," Vi whispered.

As Xander removed the keys from the ignition, Vi asked, "Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Robin?"

"Michael."

Oh. Rona's brother. "I hope so," he said without thinking. Realizing what just came out of his mouth, he started babbling to cover up. "Hey, maybe he'll get lucky, trip and fall as he gets off the plane at a transfer point, tear a few ligaments, and then get himself Purple Hearted back to the good ol' U.S. of A. where he'll be flying a desk for the rest of his military career." And geez, could he sound any more like a jerk?

To his surprise, Vi giggled. "How about he meets Rona at the airport and while walking to her to his car, he falls, breaks his leg, and never leaves the U.S. at all?"

Xander relaxed. "I like your version better."

"Yeah, mine's pretty good," Vi gave him a crooked smile. "How do you do it?"

"Do what? Talking? I pretty much shut off my brain when I open my mouth."

"I don't mean **that**," Vi giggled again. "I mean…well…what I mean is, how do **you **do it? Night after night? Patrolling, walking around with that compound bow or a crossbow, making sure we don't do something **too **stupid."

__

Hunh? Wha? "Unh, Vi? I don't know if you noticed, but the Slayers are pretty much the soldiers around here, not…"

"Yeah, but, we've got something 'special,'" Xander could hear the bitter quotes Vi put around 'special' as she said it, "which means we don't have a choice. Plus, it takes some serious whomping to take us out. You don't have that."

Xander shifted uncomfortably at the unexpected turn the conversation was taking. He really wasn't sure what Vi was getting at here, but the Slayer obviously needed to get something off her chest. "Yeah, but I've got myself a bevy of beautiful Slayers to cower behind. So my position? Not so bad."

"Like you cowered behind a gravestone in Erie Cemetery last week?" Vi asked. "Yeah, dusting one vamp with a bolt and then running up and whacking the other vamp silly with your crossbow so Kennedy could stake it **really **looked like hiding to me."

"Have mercy. I'm operating on brain dead. What are you saying?"

"Just that…well…I guess…I don't know," Vi stumbled. "I'm trying to figure out how Michael can seem so okay with walking into a war zone when he didn't have to sign on to the military in the first place, so I thought maybe you could explain it to me."

"Number one, I'm pretty sure he's not 'okay' with it. It's his job, sure, and he knew it was a possibility when he signed up, but doing your duty and being okay with it are two different things," Xander explained. "Two, me and Michael are nothing alike. He's gotta deal with guns and bullets and people shooting at him for a start. I'm basically 4F bait, so I'm pretty sure I'll never be wearing a military uniform. And he doesn't have a Slayer to hide behind when things get really hairy. Probably. Maybe. These days, who knows? Not that being a Slayer can protect you from a sniper. Aw, hell. You know what I mean."

"But you're both fighting on the front lines of a…"

"Vi," Xander interrupted as he rubbed his temples to ward off a headache. He wasn't really connecting here and he wasn't entirely sure what the Slayer expected from him. Maybe if he were a little less tired he could see what she was getting at with the 'how do you do it' question. 

"I guess I'm trying to figure out why."

"I don't follow."

"Okay, I get **why **Michael's in the military. ROTC. But I wonder if there's something more to it. Like, **why **people sign up to fight when they don't have to and there are other people who are willing, well, maybe not willing, but don't have a choice." Xander could see she was desperately trying to explain. "Which is why I'm asking you, since you **don't **have to be here and you **could, **you know, walk away at any time. Why do **you **do it? Because maybe it'll help me understand why **he **can do it."

__

Why? "I don't know." Jesus, he must be more tired than he thought because he had no idea where that answer came from.

"You don't know?" Vi sounded like he'd just let her down, but between his oncoming headache and aching muscles, he can't even begin figure out a way to explain himself.

So he went with honesty.

"Look, right now, I don't know why I'm here or how I do whatever it is I do around here." He steadfastly fixed his right eye on the streetscape through the windshield while wiping absently at his tearing left. "What I **can **tell you is that if you asked me last year, I would've had an answer. And **that **answer would've been different than the one I would've given you the year before that. I **can't **tell you what my answer will be a year from now or even tomorrow." He swallowed hard and dared to glance back at Vi again. "I'm sorry, but that's the truth. It's not much, I know," he shrugged helplessly, "but there it is."

Vi surprised him again by blessing him with her sweet, crooked smile. "Sounds like I'm not the only one who needs a vacation."

"Oh, yeah," Xander agreed, sensing this very weird conversation was coming to an end, "or at least some sleep, preferably lasting three days."

Vi nodded and opened her door. Whatever she was looking for, she obviously found it. He just hoped he didn't just give her permission to go postal somewhere in this discussion.

He hauled himself out of the car and began trudging to the front door, the two questions niggling at the back of his brain. _How? Why?_ Had any one ever asked him those two questions? He scrambled through his memory and kept coming up with a blank.

"Thank you," Vi's voice said next to him.

__

Thank you? "For what?" he asked.

"For being you. For being here because I really don't know what Rona would've done if you weren't. For being honest and not giving me a PowerPoint presentation complete with bullet points on 'why we fight.'" 

__

Thank you? If anything, Vi's little ode to Xander made him feel **worse**. He just couldn't escape the notion that the Slayer was giving him more credit than he deserved. "If you want the standard PowerPoint show, you'll have to ask Wills."

Vi grabbed his arm and held it. "You know what I mean."

"Vi? If you're having trouble adjusting to being a Slayer, I'm not the person to talk to," Xander said. "I'm **not **a Slayer. I never was, never will be. Wrong equipment. You really need to talk to Buffy or Faith, preferably both, if you want…"

"So Buffy can give me a prepared inspirational speech about what it all means?" Vi snorted. "Faith'll just probably tell me to go talk to Robin because he's got the Slayer mom and all the answers."

Xander scrubbed his free hand through his hair. He really, really didn't want to get into explaining how Buffy in the last year wasn't the Buffy he knew back in the day, mostly because he knew that Vi would never, ever believe him. His friend may have done more long-term damage to her own credibility in the eyes of the Sunnydale Slayer veterans than anyone realized because of the way she treated people during the battle with the First. Worse, Robin was making the same mistakes.

"Give it a shot," he finally said. "Buffy'll surprise you. Faith probably will too. I promise." 

Vi looked doubtful.

Xander sighed. "Fine. At least think about it, okay? If worse comes to worst, you know where I live."

She nodded and let him go.

He managed to fit the key into the lock to let them in as _How? Why? _and _Thank you._ circled the black hole in the center of his brain. He opened the door and with a half-bow let Vi walk in before him. "Night," her voice floated back to him as she merged with the post-midnight gloom.

He steeled himself with a deep breath before shutting and locking the door behind him. 

"Catherine and Willow are waiting in the library to brief you."

Xander jumped and whipped around to his left. Damn it! Robin up on his blindside again! He's just walking into the goddamn house and…

Robin shuffled uncomfortably. "Didn't mean to startle you. I know you're tired."

Xander couldn't quite get his shoulders to relax or his heart rate to slow down. "Rona's off. I don't know when she'll be back since she needs to spend some me-time with her family. She'll be keeping us in touch. Vi's got her email, if you're interested."

"How's the bruise?"

Right on cue his left cheekbone gave a throb. He's been so tied up between Catherine training and Rona supporting that he'd literally forgotten about it. He clutched his left hand into a fist and hid it behind his back as resistance against reaching up and touching the sore area. "I'll live," he said shortly.

More uncomfortable shifting from Robin. "I'm sorry. About that. I overreacted to…and just…sorry."

__

I'm sorry? This night was full of surprises with its hows, whys, thank yous, and now sorrys. His poor, overtaxed brain was shorting out under the stress of applying these words to himself in any way that made sense.

He can't deal. He needed bed. Sleep. And a late wake up call. Maybe he'll be able to make sense of it in the morning.

__

Aw, shit. What did Robin say? Catherine and Willow are waiting for me? So much for bed, although I can't see how anything they say is going to sound anything like English right now.

Robin was still fidgeting in the hallway, which Xander thought was a pretty hilarious sight. Robin, the big, bad demon hunter with all the big, bad moves looked like he'd been caught doing the naughty by a little old lady in a candy store. Christ. Any minute now he was going to start giggling and blow the mood. "Forget it. Not the first time my mouth dug my grave."

Robin seemed relieved. "I'm glad you're aware of that."

__

Last I checked you were the one that got bruised just for talking shit. 

Ooooh, look at that. With six little words, Robin not only managed to wake him up completely, but to completely piss him off. "Next time you have an issue with my mouth, **say **something. I'm not your punching bag, flunky, or sidekick," Xander said tightly. "Although if that's what you need, I'm pretty sure Andrew might be willing to fill that slot."

"Andrew's the only one around here even attempting to keep spirits up," Robin said evenly. "Your attitude and smart remarks are serving to damage the morale in the house. You're supposed to be an example to the others and you're not living up to your responsibilities."

"I'm…I'm…whatthehelldidyoujust…"

"Keep your voice down. People are trying to sleep."

"So am I, but I'm pretty much still talking to **you.**" 

Something was slipping right through his fingers here. He could **feel **it along with his strained temper, but he would be damned if he could figure out what, exactly, he was blowing. He was exhausted, he was faced with yet another long meeting probably involving a lot of long words, an early bedtime if "early" could be defined as 4 a.m., followed by days full of trying to resolve the latest crisis. In between all of this, he had to deal unhappy baby Slayers, Andrew being Andrew, Robin being Robin, and him being him. It was enough to make him want to put his fist through a wall.

How the hell did Giles do it? Giles had even **more **responsibility since he was the Watcher man. _Yeah, but Giles only had to worry about **one **Slayer and everyone knew who she was. We get a planet full of 'em and we don't even know where they **are**, _his mind growled.

"You know I have a point," Robin stated.

Clenched right fist joined clenched left fist behind Xander's back, this time because he was afraid he'd take a swing at Robin. "Have I **ever**, and I mean **ever,** started a fight in a house meeting? No. Have I **ever **inspired any of the baby Slayers to rebel? Again with the no. Every time my 'smart mouth' has opened up with something resembling a criticism it has been when the 'adults' are alone and not in front of the 'kids.'"

"No," Robin allowed. "But the attitude you have in private spills over into your public actions, so maybe…"

"I should just think happy thoughts, kill what's left of my brain cells, and let you do my thinking for me? No thanks. Last time that happened, I lost an eye," Xander gritted. "As for you? Last time you went alpha male you tried to off Spike. While that's a noble goal and I'm with you 100 percent, your timing sucked. What the fuck did Spike do to you, aside from existing, that you felt you had to off him **right away**? If this was about some personal vendetta from Spike's school basement days, you should've waited until **after** the big battle. On top of that, you **lied** to everyone about what you were doing. You're partly responsible for planting that big ol' wedge between Buffy and everyone else at just the wrong time. A wedge, I might add, that's **still **causing more problems than you can even imagine."

Robin went deadly still somewhere in Xander's rant. "You really shouldn't comment on things you don't know about, boy."

"Oh, really?" Xander's voice was dripping in sarcasm. "Here's what I got out of it: if **that's **how you come up with a plan and execute it, you are the **last **person who should be dictating anything to anyone."

He spun on his heel and stalked away from the eerily quiet Robin. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. I just made everything worse. I let my inner Daddy Harris do the talking. I'm no fucking better than I was in high school._ He just couldn't find it in him to go back and make peace, mostly because he had an unerring sense honed by years of growing up in the Harris household that he'd not only stepped over a line, he obliterated it. 

He just wished he knew what it was he said that managed to kill all hope of he and Robin ever having something resembling a friendly conversation.

His subconscious directed his feet to the library instead of his bedroom, yet another surprise in a long night of surprises. He stopped right at the doorway and leaned against it, too exhausted to take even another step.

His arrival was still unnoticed by the room's occupants. Willow was sipping something, probably herbal tea, and watching Catherine who was engrossed in listening to Faith tell some tall tale. Faith's presence shouldn't be the surprise it was, especially since she was one of the designated babysitters. The surprising thing was that Robin failed to mention Faith was still up. 

He couldn't help the smile. There was Catherine looking like she wanted to reach out and touch Faith to make sure the chatting Slayer as real. Faith was so lost in telling whatever story she was telling that she didn't seem to notice the way Catherine's dark eyes shined as the Watcher Honoria absorbed every single precious word.

In the dim light of the desk lamps, Catherine and Faith looked like they might be…well, not sisters exactly, but at least distant relatives. He suddenly frowned. The illusion had to be a trick of the light and his overtired eye. Sure, the shape of their faces was similar, especially around the eyes, and both heads of hair looked like the natural curl was going to fight any attempt to control them. He doesn't think he'd ever noticed Faith bothering to try, while Catherine did her best to keep it tied back and out of the way.

He snorted at himself in amusement. Right. It was official. He was in full meltdown.

The noise distracted Willow and the witch scanned the room until she met his gaze. "You look like hell," she stated.

"Remind me to pay you the same compliment after a long day in the very near future."

Somewhere in there Willow must've moved because she was in front of him shoving a warm cup into his hands. "Coffee," she explained, "you get yuck face when I try to get you to drink my Up All Night mix."

Xander bent low over the cup, letting the smell and steam wash over him. "Thanks."

"What happened here?" Willow reached out a hand to gently caress the bruise.

He desperately wanted to lean into the soothing heat of her palm, but backed off, forcing himself to stand upright. "I took a spill during training. No big." Too late he realized that Faith and Catherine were both actually there when he got his injury.

"How's Rona?" Faith asked from her seat while Xander silently thanked her for changing the subject.

"Good as can be expected."

"How are **you**?" Willow asked.

Sweet Willow. Good Willow. Best bud Willow. He reached out and played with a strand of her hair as he tried to answer that loaded question. _Let me see, I'm pretty sure I just said everything wrong to Vi and managed to get into a fight with Robin while he was apologizing, so all in all, it's not been a good night. What I need is some advice on how to fix it because, I gotta tell ya Wills, I don't know what I'm doing._

"Xander?" Willow pressed.

"Sorry. My neurons are about to go on strike for more vacation time, preferably in a tropical climate with a lot of nude beaches populated by sexy young women."

Willow gave him a playful hit. "Hey! No talking like that unless you plan to take me with. So when do we leave?"

"Leave?"

"Yeah. Leave. I hear Tahiti is just the place. I'm sure Kennedy won't have any problems with it as long as I take pictures."

Xander let his hand drop. If someone told him when he was fifteen and drooling after Buffy that the day would come when Willow would not only get possessed by the ghost of Anya, but would be offering to go trolling for nubile, young, and willing women with him, he'd've never believed it. 

The future was **definitely **a scary place, sometimes even when you were living in it.

Faith cleared her throat. "While you two fantasize about finding your perfect woman in places not named Cleveland, we're still waiting. Xander's not the only one ready to drop."

Xander glanced around the giggling Willow and saw Faith with crossed arms and Catherine trying to look like she wasn't tasting something bad. "Sorry," he apologized. "I'm not firing on all cylinders right now."

"We could wait until tomorrow," Willow offered.

What a tempting thought. What he **wanted **to do was go to bed. What he **had **to do was walk in, sit down, and get the lowdown on what he missed.

"Nah. Let's get it over with," he replied as he drifted over to a seat. "Not sure how much I'll absorb, but…" his voice trailed off in a shrug.

"Well, you are in luck," Willow skipped over to her seat, snatching a sheaf of papers off the research/computer table along the way. She presented the pile to Xander with a flourish. "Jeanne took notes and then typed them up for you. You know, Jeanne, right? She's the one…"

"…who was planning on become a secretary to support her poetry habit, worships Trent Reznor, and believes that Prince is right about all artists being slaves to society's corporate machine," Xander finished for her, completely missing Faith's 'toldjya' look of triumph at Willow's shocked expression. "She went into the battle with the First smuggling a copy of _The Downward Spiral_ in her back pocket. She was **pissed**that she lost it anyway."

"Unh, right. That's her. I think. Didn't know about the poetry. Or Trent Reznor. Or about the Prince thing. And did she **really** think a CD was going to survive a sword fight with Turok-Hans?" Willow asked.

Xander shrugged. "Said she wanted to be buried with it if she died in the battle, so I think that's why she had it. That's also probably why she hasn't replaced it yet. I've been noticing she's been leaning more towards Everclear these days anyway."

"Not that I understand anything you said, but how do you know this?" Catherine asked.

The source of the question was so unexpected that Xander was pretty sure he broke something when he quickly turned his head to face the Watcher Honoria. She was looking at him with something akin to respect topped by a healthy dollop of approval while Faith smirked mysteriously behind her. 

He shook his head and shrugged. _Why the hell is this such a mystery? You'd think I read minds or something. _"We've talked?"

"Oh." Catherine leaned back in her chair, looking the picture of smug satisfaction.

The sense of unreality was just getting more unreal by the moment. He wondered how much he was missing because he could hear his bed forlornly calling to him. He needed to focus on something before they even started talking. Get the brain cells working on…

"Oh, wait!" He smacked himself in the forehead. "Hey Faith? Think you could kinda take Vi under your wing? With her soul sister out of town, I think she's a little out of sorts."

The smirk was replaced by a frown of surprise. "Well, I know they're best pals and all, but I really don't see how I can…"

"What I **mean **is, keep her in your patrol group, maybe get her talking, you know?" Xander was trying to think of a way to tell Faith that Vi really needed a Slayer-to-Slayer chat without betraying the girl. "Maybe you could lend and ear, maybe two? Help her find her bearings now that her best bud is temporarily unavailable."

Understanding clicked in Faith's eyes as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. Xander discovered he couldn't quite sit still under the intense expression. "Happy to give it a shot, not too sure if I'm the best Slayer for the job, though. Get B in it too. I'd feel better if I had back up."

"You **are **the best Slayer for the job, at least in this situation. I'd ask B, I mean Buffy, except I'm not too sure Vi'd listen to her." God, this was killing him to admit it. "Besides, you gotta fly solo on this one. If the two senior Slayers are making with the girl talk over ice cream sundaes, Vi's gonna figure I said something out of school. Better if you just make yourself available and keep the ol' ears open, 'kay?"

Faith's expression didn't change, nor did her eyes leave his face. There was a long pause before she slowly nodded her assent. "I'll see what I can do," she promised.

Xander let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thanks. And Willow?"

"Eeep?"

He grinned. "No blabbing. Not even to Kennedy. Keep it low key so we don't end up love bombing Vi."

"No love bombing. Check." Willow nodded as she dropped into her own chair. "Which means I better not talk to Buffy or Giles or Robin or Kennedy or anyone ever because I'm really bad at this sneaky keeping secret-y thing."

Xander gave her a dark look.

"When it doesn't involve me being naughty," she readily amended with a sigh. "I'll be zipped lip Willow."

"Thanks," he said, shoving as much sincerity as his scrambled brain could muster into the word. "Well, let's hear it."

The Faith smirk was back. "I can't **wait **to see your reaction." 

TBC…


	24. 202020 Vision and TwoHeaded Babies

****

Part 24: 20/20/20 Vision and Two-Headed Babies

"I am rather curious about what you think."

Xander held up a finger as a signal for Giles to wait while he finished chewing his last bite of his bagel sandwich. Faith yawned widely in the back seat, her face practically disappearing behind the open-mouthed yawp. The second her mouth was closed, she sipped from her coffee and flopped lengthwise on the upholstery, doing a very good imitation of a cat waiting for a stray sunbeam.

Xander tossed Faith an amused look. "I thought Slayers could take the punishment of three hours of sleep."

Faith shot him the bird before flinging her arm over her eyes, muttering about how they should wake her when she was actually needed for something. Giles noticed that she kept a hand around the coffee cup that remained precariously balanced on her stomach.

"Xander," Giles pressed.

"I'm thinking about it." Xander's cheerful expression had transformed into a frown. This time his glance at the half-snoozing Faith lacked any trace of warmth. If anything, Xander looked distinctly unhappy about the prospect of going on a whirlwind tour of Russia with the dervish of a Slayer, not that Giles really blamed him. Frankly, he thought Xander was handling Faith's continued presence in the Cleveland house much better than anyone had a right to expect. Xander had most certainly suffered a blow inflicted by Faith's hand and near as he could tell they still had not settled accounts on that. 

He idly wondered if they ever would.

"They're lying," Xander stated.

Now that was a surprise.

"Goes without saying, right?" Xander asked when he saw Giles's expression. "**If **they're really from the future, they're lying by omission. If they're con artists, they're lying through their teeth."

"So, you don't believe they're demons then?" Giles watched the motor cars dance in the Dunkin Donuts parking lot through the windscreen. 

"No."

"I'm curious as to why not." Giles sipped at the watered-down swill that in an alternative universe might be called burnt coffee with vague hazelnut flavor. 

"They lack the vibe." He shrugged. "I know Robin's still has to be thinking demon, but…jeez…this is going to make me sound like the stereotypical California airhead, but, I dunno. Everyone's got a vibe, right? Slayers got it. Witches got it. Vampires out of game face **definitely **have it. You ever notice that?"

"Yes and no. I'm just rather…how did you come to this conclusion?"

Xander gave his coffee a suspicious sniff, made a face, and rested it on the steering wheel. "Didn't notice in Sunnydale. Surprise, surprise I guess what with all the Hellmouth-y energy throwing everything out of whack, which is why I don't think the Cleveland Hellmouth is as powerful. Yet. I guess what I'm trying to say is that since May I've been picking up on that 'Whoa! Vibe!' thing."

Interesting. A more likely explanation was simply that everyone was stumbling around half-blind—in Xander's case somewhat literally—forcing all of them to rely on hidden talents that might've otherwise gone unused. Given everything Xander had been through in the last year, it simply could be that the young man was tapping powers of observation he didn't know he had.

"At least that's what I'm hoping," Xander added, missing Giles's bemused expression. "Because the only other explanation that I've got is that I've got mystical radiation-like poisoning from the destruction of the **last **Hellmouth I lived on and one of the side-effects is vibeage. I'm so hoping that's not the case."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of having two-headed babies," Giles chuckled.

The stunned expression on Xander's face was almost worth admitting to a certain amount of familiarity with B-movie conventions. The smile that quickly followed—the first genuine one Giles recalled seeing on that very face since Xander announced his and Anya's engagement—made him realize why Xander sometimes came out with his non sequiturs. Surprising a smile out of someone who'd seen too much was pure gold for the heart. 

"More like afraid I might get a weird mystical cancer that turns **me **into a two-headed baby, although I bet I could sell my story to the Farrelly Brothers if that happened and, bonus, I'd have 20-20-20 vision instead of just 20 vision." Xander relaxed against the seat. "So, oh Wise One, why are we parked in a trash-packed lot instead of talking back at the Mother House?"

"Wise One?"

"Sorry." Xander's smile dimmed slightly. "Willow and Faith told me about what Charlie said. I guess I'm relieved that someone else gets stuck with weird titles that make my head go boom. At least you deserve it."

Giles sighed and tapped nervously against the Styrofoam. "Not terribly sure that I do. Besides, we have no idea what it is we have done or will do that puts you, me, Buffy, and Faith in that circle."

"Fun as the speculating is not, you still haven't answered the question."

"I wanted to get both yours and Faith's reactions without interruptions and before it was sullied by other people's opinions."

"I think you're going to have to wait on Faith."

"I'm awake," came the mumble from the back seat.

"No you're not," Xander countered. 

Faith sighed a sleep breath and sank back into slumber.

"What's suspicious to you?" Giles asked.

"The big one is that they want to take a pretty powerful mystical object and disappear with it," Xander began ticking the points off on his fingers, "They don't actually know that much about said mystical object, not even its exact location…"

"Moscow is more exact than not knowing where it is." Giles could see where Xander was going, but found he was rather curious to follow the young man's train of thought. More than once since they left Sunnydale, Xander had taken him by surprise by what he **did **notice and how he acted on it. 

"Yeah, but I gotta think that Moscow's bigger than Sunnydale," Xander countered. "And we've got to find this mystical arrow in Cleveland first before we can even think of using our yet-to-be-applied-for passports. Now maybe I'm spoiled, but how did the one thing that's supposed to tell us where this grail is end up halfway around the world? And on top of a Hellmouth, no less. That makes as much sense as wild dolphins in Montana."

"May I remind you that the Slayer's Scythe was in Sunnydale even though there was no earthly reason for it to be there?" Giles dryly pointed out.

Xander shrugged. "At least that makes **some **sort of sense. For all we know, that Guardian and the Scythe may have been blipped around the world for centuries so she and it were always close to the One and Only Slayer. That might explain why both Kendra and Faith ended up in Sunnydale at some point even though it didn't make a whole lot sense for them to visit. I mean, c'mon, there's no evil in Boston or wherever Kendra came from?"

Giles choked on his coffee. The convenient location of the Scythe and the Guardian woman Buffy claimed to have met always bothered him, but considering the task before them in Sunnydale and Cleveland, it became a low-level worry. He never considered the idea that maybe both were bespelled to be close to the active Slayer. Yet Xander just voiced the idea as if it was self-evident, or certainly a possibility. The most frightening thing about it was this: it **was **possible.

"Perhaps the Scythe could help us," Giles murmured. "Perhaps we could use it to find…"

Xander looked startled. "You mean you **didn't **think of using the Scythe to locate the new Slayers? I thought that would've been the first thing you'd look at."

"Perhaps if you were move involved with the hunting down Slayers…" Giles began.

Xander deflated and looked out the window. "Sorry. I'm getting pulled into a million directions by the Slayers we **have**. I'll…I'll…do better. Sorry."

Giles shook his head. "I didn't mean for…what I mean is, I do understand and appreciate what you're doing. Frankly, I fear the atmosphere in the house would be far worse if you weren't lending your support to the girls and dealing with the everyday problems of running the household." He inwardly winced when he saw Xander's shoulders hunch defensively under proof that someone had paid attention to what he was doing. "Not to pull you in yet another direction, but I think you should be more involved on the search-and-identify mission, if only because it didn't occur to Robin, Willow, and myself to look more closely at the Scythe as something other than a mystical weapon and a focus for Willow's spell activating the Potentials."

Giles noticed that there was a slight jitter as Xander took a tentative sip at his coffee. "Probably won't work anyway," Xander mumbled. "Everything's probably all screwed up because we have god knows how many Slayers running around instead of just the one or two."

"Still, worth looking into. In any case, we're wandering away from the point: the fact that this mystical arrow is in Cleveland while its connected object is in Moscow, uncommon that's true, but not rare. That's not necessarily a point against them."

"Well, this next one is both for and against them," Xander said.

Giles scrunched his head in thought. Clearly, he had no idea where Xander was going or what his conclusions actually were.

"On the side of them being grifters, they're talking about dragging one of the senior Slayers to the other side of the planet at a time when we can't really afford for that to happen." 

"You're thinking trap."

"Could be. Leave the house with only one experienced Slayer while the other one is lured god knows where in a country she knows nothing about? Anything could happen, up to and including an ambush that could get her killed or leave the Cleveland house vulnerable."

At this, Giles switched his gaze to Faith to see if the snoozing Slayer had any reaction. Their backseat passenger hadn't so much as twitched, an indication that she seemed insensible to the conversation taking place in the front seat.

"Then why not lure Buffy instead?"

Xander grinned. "Noticed you didn't ask why not lure both of them."

"Because if it is a deadly trap, two experienced Slayers are more likely to get out of a sprung trap alive than one." 

"Yeah, what I thought too," Xander agreed. He turned his head slightly, putting Faith more firmly into his line of sight, which meant that he'd completely miss Giles's reaction. In a lowered voice, he added, "If I had to choose, losing Faith right now might be a bigger blow than losing Buffy."

Giles felt a stab at that. It didn't help that he suspected the admission cost more for Xander to say than for him to hear it. Faith remained stubbornly unresponsive in the back seat.

"Faith's involved with the boss, so right there that would cause problems if she died because we took a chance on these guys," Xander added in that same low tone. "And while neither Buffy or Faith are winning any popularity contests with the other Slayers, Buffy's got some Sunnydale-sized baggage to overcome where Faith doesn't. Plus, Buffy's been kinda playing keep-away of the self. I don't know what to do about it so I've been leaving it alone." He winced. "Sorry about that, by the way. I just don't…I don't want to intrude because…I don't know how to…"

"Xander, it's quite all right." 

When Xander's gaze snapped back to him, Giles could see in the other man's expression that he was still fatally bleeding over the loss of both his home and Anya. _I am an idiot. Seven years and I've not yet learned that just because Xander acts like he's perfectly fine, doesn't mean he actually is perfectly fine. When is this bloody boy ever going to learn to trust people enough to ask for help?_

Because the only way Xander knew how to deal with setbacks was to help everyone but himself and make jokes. Giles knew that too, even if the "help" involved could be downright distracting and annoying at times. 

"Buffy's situation is too close to home for you to be anything resembling objective," the Watcher said. 

Xander frowned at that before looking away. Now it was his turn to study the pattern of leave-a-parking-space-take-a-parking-space. Giles could practically hear what he was thinking: Spike is missed and mourned by everyone because he died a big hero saving the world. Anya barely gets mentioned because she only got a sword in the gut saving Andrew of all people. Buffy and I have nothing in common.

"You are not responsible for helping Buffy overcome her grief when you have your own to deal with," Giles continued, ignoring the guilty waves washing over him from the other man. "It's up to her to reach out to either you, Willow, myself, or anyone else she chooses and she has made very little effort to do so. When she's ready to really reach out, she will. You have enough on your plate."

"The thing that's for them, believe it or not, is including me," Xander said as if Giles hadn't spoken. "They're grabbing one of the strongest people in the house **and **one of the weakest, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

"Strongest in the house doesn't always come down to fighting skill," Giles said quietly. 

Xander turned his head and gave Giles a crooked smile. "Okay, then. We've pretty much spelled out why not Buffy, which also applies to Kennedy since she's had the full-package training. But Robin's an even better target since he's crowned himself our fearless leader. Hell, while we're at it, we've got you as the only experienced Watcher within a thousand-mile radius, Witchy Willow with her witchy ways, Dawn who can read pretty much any written language. Much as it kills me to admit this, even Andrew would make a better target because he can summon demons and read demonic languages. Plus, if he dies we all starve to death because he's the only one who knows how to operate a stove. So if they're setting us up for a big fall, grabbing me makes zero sense."

Giles resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Are you seriously telling me that you think they might be telling the truth because you're the other person they want with them in Moscow?"

"Giles, c'mon, targeting me as someone who needs to be distracted and on the other side of the world where there may or may not be a trap is too strange for it **not **to be real."

"Of all the deluded, idiotic, twaddle I've ever heard you say over the years, this has to be the worst," Giles fought to keep his voice low. "Frankly, losing you would be a devastating blow whether you see it or not."

"But…" Xander began.

"Oh, do be still and listen," Giles cut him off. "We are all contributing to the best of our abilities and all of us are contributing things that no one else can. You included. Frankly, you're the only one who's shown any patience for the new Slayers beyond their skill with a stake **and **you, along with Robin to a lesser extent, have been instrumental in building our weapons arsenal. Furthermore, you've been almost solely responsible for getting our new home shipshape. Without you, we'd be still living out of a handful of boxes and probably sharing the single stake we had left when we departed California."

Xander's jaw locked and he looked away as if Giles's anger was a physical blow. His inability to accept a compliment remained one of the many aspects of his personality that continued to confound Giles at every turn. It was enough to make the Watcher wonder what Xander actually heard when he got one.

"To my way of thinking, the fact that you are 'targeted,' as you put it, is in their favor, but not," here Giles held up a finger to stop Xander from speaking, "because what you do is not worthy of note. You're right, it is not likely they'd pick you out of the crowd as someone who should be taken out of the way. That's because your contribution is too difficult for outsiders to easily identify. You outshine all of us behind closed doors on a day-to-day personal level."

Xander swallowed hard. "Which kinda leads to my next in their favor point. They get a lot of things wrong."

"Oh?" Giles asked with resigned sigh, again wondering if Xander had heard a single word he said.

Xander shook his head. "What I **mean **is, they're consistent about their wrongness." When Giles remained stubbornly silent, he added, "Okay, take their pronunciation of Sunnydale, or calling earth Tara, or screwing up slang, or facts about us. They're wrong, sure, but they're **consistently **wrong even after we try to correct it. When one of them lacks information, they **all **lack the same information."

"A nice cover if they haven't done their homework," Giles pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's consistent even after being here for two days, and the details of wrongability are still there even when none of the others are around," Xander countered. "They may be Oscar-quality actors, but **no one **is so good that they can keep it up 24/7 whether separately or all together. I haven't noticed any slip-ups. Unless you have?"

Giles was rather pleased with Xander's reasoning. It was fairly logical and based on solid observation. This boded well for his hopes that Xander would agree to accept a role as an official Watcher, as opposed to the unofficial capacity under which he was currently operating. 

"I have to admit that I haven't. I fear that I was forced to play stupid in hopes of catching Charlie out but he remained unshakably consistent in his presentation." Giles chuckled. "The poor man had to repeat his story five times to me, although it turned out for the best because even **he **realized his caution was forcing him to leave out some very salient points."

"Find anything?" Xander asked.

"I believe that you and I have come up snake eyes," Giles answered. "All we can do is continue to watch them and see if we can find any cracks."

"Of course, the **possibility** that they might be telling the truth and might let slip about the ol' future isn't a draw," Xander grinned.

"I'm not greedy," Giles waved an airy hand. "A mere hint of a glimpse is good enough for me."

Xander started the engine and pulled out of the carpark, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other clutched his coffee cup. "So the plan is to go along, find this arrow, and watch 'em for trouble."

"That about sums it up," Giles agreed.

"So, what happens **after **we find the arrow, assuming it even exists? Moscow ho or not?"

"Let's cross the bridge when we come to it."

The rest of the ride went on in companionable silence, punctuated by something that sounded like an occasional snore from the back seat. Once they made it to the brownstone, Xander killed the engine and let out a yawn. "I'll take today off from training. 'Sides, I need some more sleep."

"I'll wake Faith. You go on."

Xander gave a curt nod and exited the car. As soon as Giles saw the door close behind the younger man, he casually said, "Quite a good show you put on back there. Dare I ask why you thought it was necessary?"

Giles looked over his shoulder to spy Faith glaring at him over her protective arm covering. "I'm slipping," she commented.

"Not quite. Frankly, you had me fooled until Xander and I had our disagreement. I don't care how heavy a sleeper you are, sensitive hearing is not going to let you sleep through that."

Faith sat up, carefully placed her coffee cup on the floor, before luxuriating in a full-body stretch. "I had nothin' to add. Plus, you hauled me away from a warm naked body at the ass crack of dawn. You sure as fuck didn't need me here."

"I'm still curious about what you think."

Faith shrugged. "Robin's still has 'they're demons' at the top of his list. Human con artists is a distant second. He's still thinkin' distant possibility that they're telling anything resembling the truth."

"I **know **what Robin thinks since he was kind enough to tell me at length last night," Giles said with irritation. 

"Now what I think is wicked funny is that B believes 'em 100 percent," Faith grinned.

"That I wasn't aware…she confided in you?" Giles could feel the hope in his chest as he asked this.

"Was sitting right there when she was talking to Willow after. She believes them because—and get this—she was watching Catherine and Ruda through the whole thing. She figures the way they hung together, they gotta be telling the truth." Faith rolled her eyes at this, which pretty much told Giles what the Slayer thought of this very thin piece of evidence. "Willow pretty much buys it too, but she's at least willing to admit they might be lying."

So much for getting an unpolluted opinion out of Faith. "What about what **you **think?"

"Gotta go with Xander and you. They **could **be lying, hell, I'm 50-50 on that one, but on the chance they're not?" Faith shrugged. "I'm willing to bet that no matter what, this arrow and grail they want is legit. So, even if they are con artists, we could get ourselves some powerful magic weapons out of the deal if we stay on the case."

"Rather what I thought," Giles admitted.

"Plus, I think Robin's reaching on the demon angle because I just don't see it," Faith continued. "Their story's too subtle for the smash-kill party and too complicated when an easier lie will do for anything smarter than that. Although I gotta admit you **both **used bigger words than I would in saying no way José. Jesus, I didn't know Xander was such a brainiac. Way he acted back in the day, I thought he was some pot-smokin' surfer dude scared straight by the evil undead."

Giles couldn't resist. "I fear Xander's going to continue taking you by surprise at this rate." 

Faith studied him a moment. "Let's get one thing straight: I know people. Ain't no way he was playin' as an equal back in the Dale."

"You're perhaps right in ways you don't expect," Giles admitted.

"How fuckin' ironic is it that **you're **prepared to see him as an equal and he's still acting like you're the Nick At Nite dad." Faith yawned widely, giving Giles a disturbing view of her teeth. "'Course it's even funnier we got a house fulla girls that have pegged him as the Nick At Nite dad. If we get a new Slayer who calls herself 'The Beav' and starts following Xander around like a lost puppy I will laugh my ass off because that would be **too **perfect."

"So, you have no problems with the idea that you and Xander may be forced to play this out in Moscow without support from the rest of the house."

Faith's protective shielding closed around her and her face lost expression. "Not too hot about it, and not because I think he's dead weight."

"Yes. Your shared history," Giles said mildly. 

Faith twitched. She clearly was not used to be on the other end of someone else's pointed observations. "Me and Xander teaming up? Going to be uncomfortable for me and you can **bet **he's not overly thrilled about the prospect."

"Sooner or later you will have to come to grips with it," Giles said. "My advice to you is that you best do it before circumstances forces you to do so or removes the possibility altogether."

"How? I've tried getting him alone a couple of times, but…" Faith let out a frustrated breath. "Let's just say every time I try to talk to him he shuts me down."

Giles offered the best advice he could. "Give it time. When he's ready to hear it, he'll hear it."

Faith studied Giles a moment before asking, "Given the little convo I just heard, do you honestly think he'd ever believe me?" 

TBC…


	25. Spotlight on Buffy

****

Part 25: Spotlight on Buffy

__

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Buffy Summers-rah**, known as **Summers-rah-sen** to the Slayer Buffista and Unitan sects, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

****

Buffy Summers is an island of calm in the furious activity of the household. She keeps her own council as she moves with stunning grace through the crowds of younger Slayers here. This, her body language all but screams at us, is a woman who has walked through the fire and come out the other side not just alive, but stronger than before.

To the untrained eye she looks like the pretty blonde girl next door. Her tiny frame does not even hint at her raw power as a Slayer or her determination to successfully safeguard innocent lives. As history tells us, she was instrumental in the victory at the First Battle of Sun'dyal and was one of the forces behind opening up the Slayer Line beyond the Two to the Many who choose to accept the power and responsibility. 

Her gentle stillness and her modest confidence are aspects of her personality that anyone who has read her writings already well know. Looking into her hazel eyes before her future becomes the past, you know that **Summers-rah** would be well-pleased by her simple epitaph: "Beloved Wife, Sister, Mother, and Friend: A True Hero in Heart."

What is most stunning about **Summers-rah** is her relationship with the electric **Lanoire-rah**. Both women seem content to live under the same roof, living their own lives, with no trace of antagonism, no hint of disagreement between them, and no tussling over leadership issues. Such a revelation borders on shocking, given the occasional verbal sparring and acrimony that sometimes exists between the Buffistas and the Faithists, despite the fact that both sects have readily join hands with each other and the Unitans on issues that involve safeguarding of human lives. 

More stunning, there is no sense that anyone, not the Watchers, not the Slayers, not even **Lanoire-rah **or **Summers-rah, **truly understands the spiritual place some of the people in this household hold in the lives of the Slayers in our time. One can only wonder how things might have been altered had that been the case, as we find out in an exclusive **UNS **interview. 

****

BS: …so it ended with all of us standing there at the edge of crater trying to figure out what to do. But the victory wasn't without a price. Some of our people died. I really felt for Xan—I mean Harris-rah-sen…did I get that right?

****

UNS: Unh, yes. I'm just…well, I have to admit that I'm surprised.

****

BS: About what?

****

UNS: That you're referring to Alexander as Harris-rah-sen. It's just, well, unexpected to hear it from…

****

BS: Well, I'm trying to be accommodating, you know, for your audience. I mean, they probably don't realize that he's just 'Xander' to us. But since he turns out to be all leader-y and saint-y…

****

UNS: [quickly] For the record, I wasn't the one who told you that.

****

BS: [leans forward to speak clearly into MemePad] No you did not, so no punishing Ms. Tikri for breaking the Prime Directive thingy. [leans back] For the record, in case the punishment for spilling is really serious.

****

UNS: I thank you for your generosity. But back to your use of Alexander's Faithist and Unitan titles…

****

BS: Faithist? Unitan? What is…

****

UNS: [squirming] I thought the explanation was fairly clear that Alexander's –sen suffix was a title strictly tied to certain Slayer religious sects.

****

BS: [slowly] Religious sects.

****

UNS: It was…I mean, when it was explained…

****

BS: I **heard **it, but I don't think it sunk in because we were all treating it like a joke. You mean it **wasn't** a joke? About the saint part, I mean. I'm not sure that I'm all that comfortable…Xander and Faith? I mean, don't get me wrong. I can actually kind of see…actually I can't…I'm not sure…

****

UNS: Certainly **you **believe in something.

****

BS: Well, yes. Of course. I haven't thought much about it, though.

****

UNS: What do you believe?

****

BS: I believe there's a heaven. I believe there are hells. Multiple. I believe in a solid right hook, the perfect flying kick, and in the sound of breaking a demon's neck. I believe crossbows are great if you want a flying fatality, but nothing takes out hulking rampaging evil like a good explosive. I believe Giles is the smartest man I'll ever know. I believe Willow is mistress of anything with a keyboard. I believe that Xander makes the best wooden stakes in this or any other dimension and he should turn that talent into becoming a real artist instead of wasting it on stakes. I believe Dawn is really my sister, even though I know it's not true. I believe Andrew is the best cook in the universe. I believe Wood really is trying too hard to be perfect—and I should know because I tried it myself and it always ends badly. I believe that under that tough exterior, there's a part of Faith that weeps like a baby every time she sees Bambi's mother get shot. I believe that sex can be hot or it can be tender, but not both. I believe in true love, but I believe that there are lots of things that **look **like true love but isn't. 

****

UNS: I was talking about a deity.

****

BS: Oh. I guess.

****

UNS: Well, it's just that, from what I understand, Faith worships a deity called [checks MemePad] Cagney.

****

BS: [deadpan] Cagney. Figures.

****

UNS: And Alexander worships someone called Cat Woman.

****

BS: Now that I'd believe.

****

UNS: What deity do you…

****

BS: Look, can we get back to this whole Slayer religious sect thing? Because I'm really not all that comfortable…

****

UNS: Who do you believe is the source for all Slayer power?

****

BS: The First Slayer. And, much as it kills me to admit it, the bastards responsible for chaining her down and making her become a Slayer.

****

UNS: I, unh, don't understand.

****

BS: [mutters indistinctly]

****

UNS: I didn't catch that.

****

BS: [irritated] I said never mind. Forget I said anything. I only got part of the picture, so I might be missing something. Or at least I hope I am because otherwise… Besides, there's no point arguing about it **now**. It's all said and done. Water under London Bridge. Or is that London Bridge has fallen down? Whatever.

****

UNS: [slowly] So you believe the First Slayer is the source of all Slayers?

****

BS: Duh. 

****

UNS: Even all the Slayers who came after the Great Awakening?

****

BS: Great Awakening?

****

UNS: The spell that allowed all adolescent Potentials to at last claim the Slayer power for themselves?

****

BS: Oh! The empowerment spell. [silence] I don't understand the question.

****

UNS: Who do you believe served is the source of Slayer power for newly activated Potentials?

****

BS: Your question makes no sense.

****

UNS: {sigh} You said the source of all Slayers is the First Slayer. Right?

****

BS: [suspicious] Yeeeeeeeessssss.

****

UNS: So, during the Great Awakening, did you or Faith serve as the link between the First Slayer and the new Slayers?

****

BS: [stunned silence]

****

UNS: Buffy? Buffy? Hello? [tentatively] Summers-rah?

****

BS: Summers-rah? [mutters indistinctly] Catherine called me that…you mean to say that…oh.my.god.

****

UNS: What?

****

BS: [gets out of chair and starts pacing] Are you telling me that somewhere out there that there's a –sen after my name? Just not in this particular crew because Ruda is a…what did you call her? Unitan? Faithist?

****

UNS: Well, there are different sects and…wait. No one has called you…you only found out about Alexander and Faith by accident and no one told you about you…[quickly adds] I didn't tell you about you so if you're leaping to conclusions you did it all by your futching self. Not my fault if you guessed…I mean, you didn't guess. I mean…

****

BS: Sonofabitch.

****

UNS: Look, we're getting off track here. Who is the source of…

****

BS: Neither. I mean, there's the First Slayer and that's **it**. Faith and I, we…well, we're not the source of anything. We're **not**.

****

UNS: Are you about to tell our audience that everything the Slayers of my time believe is a load of horsha?

****

BS: What? No! I wouldn't do that! Everyone has the right to believe what they believe and…I think…I mean…someone's wires have gotten seriously, seriously crossed. Faith and I didn't do **anything**. I mean, okay, I came up with the plan, and Willow did the spell, which she couldn't do without the Slayer's Scythe, which I found, even though everyone said I was wrong to go looking for it. Not that I knew there was an 'it' to find. And, well, I can't blame them in retrospect because we did get our butts soundly kicked when we first went looking for 'it' before we knew there was an 'it' that was or an 'it' to find. 

****

UNS: Wait. I'm confused. So you're saying that **you **are the link?

****

BS: No! Look, all the Potentials that got activated by the spell already had the potential to be Slayers. We didn't give them **anything**. The power was already there and just waiting to be awakened. All we did was wake it. That's it. That's all. I swear. There are no links, missing or otherwise.

****

UNS: But it was your idea.

****

BS: That's not the same question! You're talking about a power source, and missing links, and who's right in the holier-than-thou sweepstakes. I'm just taking credit for an idea. Two. Different. Things. Where the hell do you people get this stuff?

****

UNS: The two theories have been with us since before humanity left Tara.

****

BS: What? No…

****

UNS: Wait. You're taking that wrong. I mean…if it's any consolation, you sound like a Unitan.

****

BS: [edges for the door] I have to go. I can't…I mean…I don't want to hear any more because it might…the Prime Directive thingy. I think…Igottago…[**BS** flees interview room]

****

UNS: Wait! I don't understand your answer! You didn't explain whether Faith or you are the link!

TBC…


	26. What's Taran for Whoops!

****

Part 26: What's Taran for "Whoops!"

Ruda was bouncing up and down the street as they left Erie Street Cemetery, cheerfully pointing out various items and excitedly asking her patrol buddies what that was, and what that was, and, oh, what is **that**?

Faith, Vi, and the latest recruit, Andrea, filled her in, laughing good-naturedly at how she'd mangle some of the words as she tried to sound them out. Whether she got them right, which always inspired a round of sincere applause from the others, or got them hilariously wrong, her grin didn't dim one single jot.

__

Girl's like a disease, Faith thought with a chuckle. Ruda's never-ending optimism in the face of a mission that had gone seriously haywire served to single-handedly raise the spirits of every Slayer in the house. Ruda obviously didn't think that being a Slayer was a one-way ticket to the vale of tears, a sharp contrast to the examples offered by Buffy and herself. 

Hell, if it was possible for Slayers to have a recruitment drive, Faith was pretty damn sure that Ruda would be the first choice to serve as a poster child. It was strange that Catherine allowed future girl out of the house, but massive amounts of begging, coupled with the deadliest cute-kitten-eyes Faith had ever seen, broke down the Watcher Honoria's defenses.

Still, Ruda wasn't given free reign. Catherine ordered that she stay outof the fighting and stick to talk about the present tense. Ruda gave her Watcher half-a-nod, a sure sign to Faith's eyes that Ruda's mind was already on patrol and was looking for an excuse to do some damage, and they were out the door.

All the same, Faith was impressed. Ruda actuallyfollowed orders. Sort of. She kept out of the one skirmish they had with four fledges, although she shouted encouragement and whooped from the sidelines while watching the present-day trio at work. Faith was pretty sure that Catherine would **not **consider Ruda's shout, "Look out behind you!" at Andrea while the newest Slayer in the house was distracted during the dust up as staying out of the fighting.

Ruda glommed onto Vi right after introductions were made and the dark-haired girl bounced between Vi and Faith all night. At the moment, Faith was enjoying giving her ears a well-deserved break while Ruda pestered the younger Slayer. She watched as her charge waved her hands in the air with excitement while Vi recounted this one time she tripped and fell face-first in the mud while chasing a Faryl demon through a back alley. Ruda constantly peppered the hat-wearing Slayer for more details until Vi was reduced to breathlessly laughing about the incident and the enthusiasm of her appreciative audience.

Story done, Ruda tripped her way back to Faith's side and said, "Tell me another one."

"Aren't you tired yet? Christ, I'm ready to drop just **watching **you."

"**Please **Lanoire…I mean Faith?"

Faith sighed. "Wicked. Did I tell you that one?"

"Wih-kid," Ruda gamely parroted. "Means really great."

"Bubbler," Faith said.

"Bub-lah. Means a water fountain, which is attached to a wall so people can drink from it."

"Parlor."

"Pahler." 

Faith grinned. Ruda was picking up her wicked bad Boston accent. And doing a really good job of it, too. "That means living room," Faith said.

"Living rohm," Ruda nodded sagely.

"That's where people gather together, sit down, watch some tube, and maybe curl up on a couch," Faith explained.

"Oh, central room," Ruda nodded happily. "Couch?"

"Couch…couch…wait…sofa?" Faith asked. Ruda still looked blank, so she added, "Long bench-like seat that can have more than one person on it."

"I knowwhat a sofa is, silly," Ruda grinned. A look of horror quickly replaced it. "Sorry, I didn't mean to call you…"

Faith barked a laugh. "It's okay, kid. Silly's cool. We're good." Ruda still looked like she had committed a grave sin. Faith put an arm around her shoulder and added, "Promise I won't hit ya with a thunderbolt or anything like that. It's all good. Hey! I got another one. This is guaranteed funny, at least everyone around me thinks so when I say it. It's where I'm originally from. Ready?"

"Ready." Ruda's inherent cheerfulness was making a break for her voice.

"Boston."

"Bahstin?" Ruda repeated thoughtfully. "I thought that **was **how you were supposed to pronounce it."

"You're a trip kid, you know that?" Faith asked with good humor. "I don't think I've ever seen any Slayer as happy as you are." 

"Why wouldn't you be?" Ruda asked in a tone that indicated she had completely missed the subtext of Faith's statement. "I mean, you can do all these great things, and you get to travel all over the place, and you get to make friends with really interesting people. It's a lot of fun."

Andrea wandered backwards and interjected, "And deal with endless training sessions, put up with Robin or someone else trying to dictate your life, the constant fighting without a break, the feeling you get when you're beaten to a pulp before the healing kicks in…"

"Okay, it's not **all **fun, but it's not all bad either," Ruda countered. She fixed Andrea with a look. "I don't get it. If you didn't want to be a Slayer, then why did you become one?"

"Ahhh, Ruda?" Vi interrupted. "You **know **the deal. **You **don't choose. You get chose. That's how it works."

Ruda dismissively waved her hand. "You sound like Catherine. Every Potential gets asked and if they don't want it they can always say no."

Faith's hand shot out and she grabbed Ruda by her upper left arm. "Run that by me one more time?"

Ruda looked at Faith as if a second head had sprouted from her shoulder. "The First Slayer asks you if you want to be a Slayer and you give her an answer." She looked around, taking in Vi's, Faith's, and Andrea's shocked expressions. "**You** did the vision quest before you became Slayers. Right?"

Faith licked her lips. "I think it's a little different for us. So, we're gonna take it from the top. First you're a Potential, right?"

"Unh-hunh," Ruda nodded. "One of the Councils identify you and offer to train you."

"One of the Councils," Faith repeated.

"The Council Honoria and the Council Educationary," Ruda said as if this explained everything. "Catherine's Council Honoria."

"Right. Let's skip the Watchers for now," Faith said. "Back to you." _Looks like ol' Ruda forgot the bit where she's not supposed to talk about herself, _Faith thought grimly. _This is too good an opportunity to let slide. Keep pumpin' her until that ol' short-term memory kicks in and she shuts the fuck up. _

"Anyway, I got trained by the Council Honoria even though the Council Educationary identified me first. My parents sympathized more with the Council Honoria's philosophy."

"I'm really confused," Vi said.

Faith shushed the other Slayer and nodded at Ruda. 

"Anyway, when I turned sixteen, I had to go on the vision quest in the G'naroth Desert so I could decide if I wanted to be a Slayer," Ruda blithely continued.

"Decide if you wanted to be…" Vi began. She winced under Faith's glare. "Sorry."

"They let you out there with enough water for a week, but no food. It's so you'd be more receptive to the vision," Ruda continued. "Then, one night, **She **comes to you."

"The First Slayer," Faith stated.

"Yup," Ruda agreed, pleased she was finally getting somewhere. "She has dark skin and her hair is really messy and caked with mud and her face is all painted white. She charges you, holds you to the ground, puts a knife to your throat, and asks you."

"What did you do?" Vi asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"She asks if you have the Slayer spirit," Ruda said. Her voice took on a dreamy tone and her face a rapturous expression. "I looked in Her eyes and I just **knew.** I was meant to be a Slayer and I wouldn't be complete if I was anything else. And it was like **She **just knew that I knew because She kissed me on the forehead, gave me my personal message, told me the name of my Watcher, and then she was gone."

"And you became a Slayer. Just like that," Andrea said.

"You know that's how it works," Faith said quietly. "Well, not exactly the same way, but…it **is **just like that."

"Anyway, when the vision ended, I had all the Slayer power," Ruda said. "The Prima picked up on the change and they came to get me and bring me back to the Council Honoria. Then they told Catherine that she'd been Called to work with me."

"Were you happy with that?" Vi's asked. Faith noticed that the younger Slayer's attitude had subtly shifted from curiosity to something resembling excitement as Vi pushed, "I mean, that the First Slayer told you who your Watcher would be because…well, Catherine seems like a really interesting person and all, but did you even **know **her?"

"I knew that **She **wouldn't steer me wrong on my Watcher. Catherine was one of my teachers, but I didn't **know **know her," Ruda still had the dreamy voice. She suddenly snapped out of her near-trance and she was back to being bouncy-happy Ruda, "'Sides, Catherine's the best. She's," the girl's face concentrated, although the image of thoughtful thinking was betrayed by a mischievous twitch of the lips, "wih-kid awesome."

"That would be 'better than sex,'" Faith quickly explained to the other Slayers.

This last statement resulted in two speechless present-day Slayers giving Faith a guarded look. 

"Nothing's better than sex," Ruda disagreed. She thought about it while Faith joined Vi and Andrea on the speechless front. After a moment, the she added, "I tell a lie. Killing an egg-bearing pride of nine T'voraths just before they start choosing hosts? That's better than sex. Although I **think **it's something to do with the pheromones an egg-bearing T'vorath gives off when you kill it."

"Don't ask," Faith quickly ordered as she took a fresh look at Ruda. "Kid? How fucking old are you?"

Ruda drew herself up to her full height, "I'm twenty-one…no…wait…sorry. Forgot to convert to…I'll be eighteen standard years in a little bit. I think. Is that right?" She looked to Faith for confirmation.

"I'll take your word for it." Jesus. Her voice sounded strangled to her own ears. Ruda had to be wrong because as far as Faith was concerned the kid, who was actually older than almost every Slayer in the house except for herself, Buffy, and Kennedy, acted more like a puppy than a veteran. Hell, she even looked younger, but that could've been an illusion because of her petite size and generally happy disposition. _Then again, that might be the difference between choosing to play and getting drafted,_ she thought with a twinned pang of resentment and guilt.

Ruda shrugged off Faith's ignorance on the issue with a grin, "I'll ask J'Nal. He'll know for sure. I probably got it wrong anyway because I always mix up the conversions from decacalendars to standard calendars and back."

"Yeah, you do that," Faith said numbly as she turned back to the house. 

Andrea's suspicious voice cut through the fog. "One thing I gotta wonder: what would've happened if you **didn't **accept it?" 

"After a week, the Watchers Honoria would've sent someone looking for me," Ruda shrugged as she fell into step with Faith. 

"C'mon, that sounds like an offer you don't dare refuse," Faith said. 

"People do all the time," Ruda corrected. 

"You're shitting me," Faith said.

"What happens to them?" Vi asked the light in her eyes undimmed. 

Ruda was vague on that point. "I guess some of them just go back to being normal people. I really don't know."

"You mean you don't care to know," Andrea said angrily. "Everyone treats them like a loser because they weren't willing to make the big sacrifice or some such macho Slayer bullshit."

"Take that back!" Ruda said hotly as she spun around to face the trailing Slayer. "Okay, almost all of them leave, but I personally know one person who turned it down and she's **not **a loser."

"Really?" Vi asked, intrigued by the whole notion that Slayer destiny wasn't a destiny in the distant future and that walking away did not necessarily mean you were shirking your duty. "What happened to her?"

***

Catherine hovered over Willow's shoulder as if her very presence might make the computer work a smidge faster. 

It took ten minutes for Willow to snap. Xander timed her.

"Stop it. You're making me nervous."

"Sorry. Sorry." Catherine held her hands up in the air and backed up a few steps. She began pacing the perimeter of the room, muttering under her breath.

"Sit down!" Willow shouted in exasperation. "You're making me even **more **nervous."

Catherine threw herself into a chair with the air of a spoiled child, one leg jiggling nervously. "There are no **books **here? Where are the futching **books**? The place looks naked."

"Grumbling about the lack of books. Giles has **got **to be your grandfather a zillion times removed," Xander commented.

Catherine sat up straight and gave him a look that, to Xander's mind, seemed to announce that one Harris-rah was clearly the stupidest person she had ever had the misfortune to meet in this or any other epoch.

"Look, not saying the lack of book-having is of the good," Xander said in a tone he hopedwas reassuring. "We just got here so we're a little thin on the pages. Besides, the kind of books we need are on the expensive side and right now we need to get our financial house in order before we invest in anything with a leather cover or a musty smell."

"You mean people won't donate the books to you or even give you a facsimile?" Catherine sounded horrified at the thought.

"Why would they do that?" Xander asked. He winced. "I forgot. You're public and we're not so people get a tax write-off when they empty the ol' attic and dump it at your doorstep, right?"

Catherine blinked. "You do realize that I don't understand half of what you said. Taaksez?"

"A world with out taxes," Xander grinned. "Anya would be so psyched." The grin disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Her name just slipped out and he could feel the familiar mental clobber upside the head every time her memory made its presence known.

"Ahnyah," Catherine mused over the name, eyes not focused on the suddenly silent man in front of her. "I **think **I remember that name. Now where did I read that?"

Willow's head snapped up from the keyboard and she cautiously watched the Watcher Honoria and her friend. She subtly shifted, preparing herself to interrupt if things got emotionally strained.

"Fiancé, or ex-fiancé, or, hell, I don't know," Xander whispered. 

"Ahnyah," Catherine continued, as if she didn't hear him, her mind still tracking down the name. "Ahhhnnyahhhh. Ahnyah! That's it!" She smiled, happy she figured it out. "She got killed in Sun'dyl! That's right! And you and she were once…" The smile disappeared. "Oh. Unh. Sorry. I didn't…yikes. Me and my mouth. I forgot that my ancient history is your gapping wound."

"It's okay. Forget it," Xander said. He saw Willow relax and turn back to the computer, but he just knew that she was listening to the conversation with half-an-ear peeled for trouble and mentally sent grateful vibes in her direction. 

"This whole time-traveling scenario…" Catherine began.

"Is a lot less fun than you'd thought it would be?" Xander asked.

She winced. "I'm that obvious, hunh?"

"Look, I bet you're sitting there and saying to yourself, 'Who the hell are these jerks?' Right?"

"I'm not thinking that," Catherine protested.

"I can guess that you are. Look, we're all over the historical record and some of us are up there in the whole pantheon of people you want to be just like when you grow up," Xander said. "I mean, the whole –rah and –rah-sen deal may be normal for you but it scares the hell out of me. I mean, how does anyone live up to that?"

"I don't know," Catherine admitted.

"I'm not offended. I think I know where you're coming from," Xander assured her. "It's kind of like me finding out that Batman was alive and well and living in New York City, going on a pilgrimage to find him and tell him how he's a big hero, and finding out that he's just some perv in a cape that gets off on beating up people."

"Batman? Cape?" she said with her eyebrows drawn tight. Suddenly light dawned, as if she had her own wa-wa moment. "A powerhero!" she shouted in glee. "You're talking about a fictional powerhero, aren't you?"

"Is that like a superhero?"

Catherine practically bounced in excitement. "I bet it is. And you **read **power funnies? Really?"

"Power funnies? Must be comic books." Xander was definitely confused. Catherine didn't strike him as someone who'd even know what comic books or the future equivalent were. Yet here she was acting like a total fangeek. "I haven't since we left Sunnydale. Besides, Batman doesn't have super powers, he's just a normal guy who's trained himself to fight and is really smart."

The Watcher Honoria regarded him with shining eyes. "I **like **that. It suits you."

Xander ducked his head, embarrassed at the pleased tone in her voice. He felt obscurely happy that this fact about him, which apparently never made it into whatever passed for history where she was from, was something she seemed to treasure.

"Suits me too," she added as she leaned back. "I never did want to be a Slayer, even though I was a Potential and had all the training. That's why I turned it down when the power was offered to me."

Xander and Willow froze and regarded their happy visitor with shock. They looked at each other and then back at Catherine. 

Willow cleared her throat. "You know? I think it's my turn to wear the dunce cap. Unh, Catherine? What did you mean when you said you turned down the Slayer power? How is that possible?"


	27. The Slayer vs the Woman

****

Part 27: The Slayer vs. the Woman

Faith was wandering to bed, head still spinning from Ruda's revelations and wondering how the hell she was going to bring the whole business up to the others, when Buffy darted from her own room, snagged Faith's arm, and dragged her out of the hall.

"Yo! Ow! What's up with this shit! B?" Faith protested as she was shoved into the room and Buffy closed the door, leaning against it for good measure.

"Faith? What do you think of Ruda?" Buffy asked in a conspiratorial tone.

"Ruda? She's okay. I like her anyway," Faith shrugged.

"You would," Buffy grumbled.

"Look, it's not like that," Faith protested. "She's, I dunno, **fun**. She totally digs the Slayer gig. I mean, just going on patrol with her is a trip. She ain't queen of quips, but she's a wicked pissah. She should hearsome of the shit that comes out of her mouth."

"Looking up to you has **nothing **to do with that?" Buffy asked with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay," Faith admitted with a wince. "I dig that too, probably because she's the Slayer I **wish** I could be and **she's** following **me **around like I'm the cat's ass. I mean, I don't think this girl would know what angst was if it bit her nose off, poked out her eye, and then did a little jig on her body."

"She's young," Buffy pointed out.

"Not as young as you think. Okay, maybe she hasn't been a Slayer long enough for the whole 'whoa is me' mindset to sink in, but I dunno, B. I don't think this girl has it in her to be like that," Faith mused. "She's wired completely different from the rest of us."

"How so?" Buffy sounded like she was legitimately curious about Faith's answer.

"Not gonna like my answer."

Buffy sighed. "Wouldn't've asked if I didn't want to know."

Faith took a breath. This was a roundabout way to approach the problem, but Buffy was a damn good start. "You never really likedbeing a Slayer, right? When you had the bombshell dropped on you I bet you had your life all mapped out to Barbie Dream House specifications. You had yourself a nice, shiny life. Probably was the prom queen or some such shit as that. A mom I'd **kill **to have…"

"You nearly did," Buffy pointed out.

"I did not," Faith cheerfully disagreed. "I just, y'know, borrowed the bod so I could steal your life. Thing is, Joyce was the tops."

"She was," Buffy sadly agreed.

"Glad you know it **now**. Little late, though," Faith said through narrowed eyes. She shook off the resentment and continued, "Back in the day…hell, even now you're all about the tragedy. If it wasn't Angel, it was me. If it wasn't me, it was Spike or some other bullshit. And you're always giving the evil eye at being the Slayer as being the source of all your troubles without even **thinking **that it just might be you."

"Oh, like you were all sparkly and happy about being a Slayer," Buffy growled. She stopped. "Wait. Wait. I said I wouldn't get mad. You're just being honest about what you think."

"See, that's the difference between you and me, B. My problem wasn't that I was a Slayer, it's just that I was me," Faith admitted. "The Slayer bit just made me more me, if you get my drift."

"Not following."

"Okay, me? Not such a great life and I'm too stupid to dig myself out of a hole…"

"You're not stupid," Buffy protested. "You're just not good at…at…well, some things."

"Whatever. Anyway, along comes a Watcher and she tells me that I'm special and I've got a big destiny ahead. Up to that point, no one's told me that, unless you count endless _Free to be You and Me _replays in kiddie school," Faith said. "So I'm like totally hooked on the deal."

"**You **were happy about being a Slayer," Buffy interrupted with a tone that indicated that she wasn't buying.

"Okay, the bit that I'd probably die young and leave an ugly corpse had me pitching a fit, but it sure as hell beat the alternative," Faith shrugged. "The fighting part wasn't a big deal. Shit. I was doing that anyway, only I was pounding the snot out of other people instead of demons. The only thing Slaying did was give me an edge in a fight."

"Let me get this straight: you don't think killing Finch, killing random people, **nearly** killing Angel, joining forces with the Mayor, and landing in prison isn't a straight up tragedy."

"You forgot to include strangling Xander in that group," Faith dryly added.

"Answer the question."

Faith shrugged. "Well, yeah. It was bad, not saying it wasn't. Hell, okay, I'll even go with the tragic, but it is what it is. It happened and nothing is gonna erase that. Now, I can huddle in a corner and cry for the rest of my fucking life, or I can do better. Me? I'll go with do better because I did the whole hide in a jail cell and pretend the world outside doesn't exist bit. Easier for me, but doesn't help anyone."

Buffy thoughtfully regarded the other Slayer. "You and Ruda have more in common than you think."

"Not really. Ruda chose to get the Slayer juice. Me? Not so much."

Buffy blinked. She swallowed hard. "Excuse me?"

"Ruda chose to accept the Slayer powers."

"You don't get to choose, you have it or you don't," Buffy stated.

"Ruda did," Faith firmly said. "Before you say anything, shut up and let me finish. Vi, me, and Andrea got to talking with Ruda tonight and we found out some freaky shit about Slayers in her time."

"Tell me," Buffy said.

"Okay, not sure I'm getting this right." Faith's brow crinkled in concentration. "Okay, I guess there's some deal whenever she's from that a Potential is a Potential, right? Anyway, they get all the training and whatnot. Then when they hit mid-teens or something like that they go on some kinda vision quest where they get dumped in a desert. Somewhere in there they start hallucinating and the First Slayer attacks 'em, holds a blade to their throat, and asks if they got the power."

"A choice," Buffy said in a whisper. She cleared her throat, "I don't think too many people say 'no' with an offer like that."

Faith shrugged. "She said it happens all the time."

"What happens to them?" Buffy asked, bitter tone betraying resentment and her expression telegraphing just what she thought about all those girls who dared turn the offer down.

"She thinks some of them get reintegrated into society as nice normal young ladies, but that a handful of them decide to stick with it in another capacity," Faith said. 

"And just **how **is an ex-Potential with no Slaying powers going to fight?" Buffy asked.

Faith smiled a wolfish grin. "You'd be shocked. Ruda got really defensive when we pushed her on that point and she said that she would kill all **three **of us if any of us dared suggest that Catherine was a coward."

****

"What?"

"Yeah, can you believe that? Catherine's a good fighter, but she ain't exactly got the Slayer moves. Hell, she doesn't even have the moves a Potential has." She grinned a mischievous grin, "Although I bet she could well and truly kick Robin's ass."

"You shouldn't be rooting against your honey," Buffy said in a stunned voice, her mind still stuck on the whole choose-your-own-destiny idea.

"Well, let's just say I saw a few things that have me thinkin' he needs to calm his shit down," Faith grumbled. "I'd smack him one, but I'm afraid I might break his jaw. Sometimes I don't know my own strength."

"If you could choose…" Buffy began in a dreamy voice. She cleared her throat. "Hey, if **you **had the choice, would **you **be a Slayer?"

"Fuck-all if I know," Faith admitted. "It's got its good and bad like everything else. Probably, because it sure beat what I had. What about you?"

Buffy never did answer.

TBC…


	28. Letting TigerSized Cats Out of Bags

****

Part 28: Letting Tiger-Sized Cats Out of Bags

"…so the whole mechanism for becoming a Slayer and who gets assigned as a Watcher is like totally different," Willow concluded her report. She looked at Faith, Vi, and Andrea, "Did I miss anything?"

"Nope. You got more than we did," Faith nodded. Frankly, she was relieved that Xander and Willow got the dope from Catherine, if only to balance out the picture between those that accepted it and those that didn't.

"Is Catherine even aware that it's different in this time period?" Giles asked.

"Yeah, she is, which she remembered only after Xander and I jumped on her about the whole choosing thing," Willow said. "She was really not happy about letting it slip, but she finally answered our questions when she realized she'd already said too much. Plus, none of us could see how knowing this information really changes anything right here and now."

"It sounds like an example of the law of unintended consequences," Giles remarked. "It could be that the methods for becoming mystically imbued with the Slayer power evolved over hundreds of years to the point where Potentials could have a choice whether or not to accept it."

"Get the feeling evolution has nothing to do with it," Willow grinned. 

"Where'd you get that idea?" Xander asked

"We asked her."

"She said she didn't know," Xander pointed out.

"After stuttering her way through the question," Willow replied. "Something tells me something else happened that changed everything even more than they already are. Think about this: someone came along and built what we did."

"You're guessing," Xander said with a frown.

"Ohhh, yeah," Willow agreed. "But just the same, we gotta get this infor…I mean information…to the Devon coven, as in get it to them last **year**. Even though we don't know anything for sure, we should check into this and the more people looking into it, the better. In the meantime I'll keep my ears open and try to get more out of 'em"

"Will, you don't really think they'll crack if you shine a big sun lamp on them and start asking questions," Buffy said.

"Probably not," Willow admitted. "I actually don't think we're going to get too much more out of our friends because they just let a tiger-big cat out of the bag. Plus the way Xander and I immediately jumped on her with questions? I'm thinking we scared Catherine half to death."

"Assuming they're telling the truth," Kennedy pointed out.

"You're such a cynic," Willow gave her girlfriend an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Still, it can't hurt to see if it's anything resembling possible."

"It would be fascinating to know," Giles interrupted. "I wonder if this change happened before or after the human race started interstellar exploration."

"Or maybe it's already happened. Is any of us sure Potentials don't have a choice now?" Xander mused. He looked at Vi and Andrea. "Did you guys get a choice?"

"Hey, don't look at me. I was at ground zero," Vi said. "It all just happened so fast **and **I was fighting for my life. Even **if **the First Slayer asked me I wouldn't even notice. I was just glad to get it because my chances of surviving got that much better."

"I didn't," Andrea said sourly. "I was practicing karate moves at the dojo when I got hit and almost threw my sparring partner through a wall. No one asked me if I wanted this life."

"Would you have said yes?" Xander asked.

"Hell, no," Andrea crossed her arms. "Look, it's not like I hate it or anyone here, but I lost **everything. **Next thing you know, all these big scary things are coming out of the woodwork to eat me. They almost killed my **parents** and there was no one out there who could help me."

"So it's a **good **thing we found you and invited you to come here," Robin said with an air of satisfaction.

"Oh, like I had a choice," Andrea muttered.

"You **did **have a choice," Buffy insisted.

"Actually, you didn't," Xander contradicted, eyes not leaving Andrea's face.

Andrea offered Xander a strained smile; relieved someone in the room was seeing her poorly expressed point. "If I didn't come here, then my family'd always be a target," she said.

"And we're the ones holding all the cards." Xander scrubbed his face with his hands. "If you want help, you **have **to work with us."

"Xander, I think you're being overly dramatic," Giles said.

"Am I?" Xander asked. "We don't even have enough resources to find all the baby Slayers that are out there. Right now we're finding them because of luck. God knows how many are right under our noses right here in **Cleveland **and we can't even find them."

"The Coven in England is doing the best it can," Willow protested.

"We're all doing the best we can," Faith nastily countered. "But it ain't good enough. When we found Andrea here and whatsherface, Susan, they were in pretty tough shape."

"Hallelujah," Robin sighed. "**Now **everyone agrees we've got a crisis on our hands."

"No one said we didn't," Buffy disagreed. "Just that we might start making mistakes if we keep pushing ourselves to the breaking point."

"Like you have room to talk," Robin snarled.

"Any minute now the two of you are gonna whip out your dicks and see whose is bigger," Faith commented.

"Hey! Everyone back up," Xander interrupted while Buffy and Robin glared at one another. "The **point **is not that it's almost impossible for us to find the new Slayers all over the world, because, guess what? No matter how hard we try some of them, maybe a lot of them are going to slip through the cracks."

"And what do you propose we do about that?" Robin asked.

"Right now? Barring a miracle? There's not a whole lot we can do," Xander stated, angrily crossing his arms.

"Nice attitude there," Kennedy said. "Very inspiring."

"Xander's right," Willow quietly chimed in. "This is a pretty overwhelming problem and we don't have the resources to do everything we want. We don't even have the resources to do everything we **should**." 

"Which brings us back to what can we do about it?" Buffy sighed.

"Look, we're getting distracted. What I mean is…" Xander paused, took a deep breath, and asked the question that no one seemed to realize needed asking. "Okay, we find a new Slayer, one that **hasn't **been backed in a corner by the neighborhood nasties, at least not yet. What are we going to do if she turns us down because one, she doesn't need our help, or two, doesn't **think **she needs our help?"

"As you pointed out, our resources are limited," Giles said. "Much as it pains me to say this, if the Slayer in question turns us down, then she's on her own."

"We abandon her," Xander flatly stated. "Just like that."

"Not loving that idea either," Faith agreed.

"Christ, do you even know **what **you want to do?" Robin asked with exasperation. "First you point out that we have an impossible job, which **I've **been saying since we left Sunnydale. **Then **you say that **if **a Slayer refuses our help, even if she's not in trouble, we should devote resources to help her anyway? While I don't like it any more than you do, sometimes we need to compromise. So, given the fact you **finally** get what I'm been saying all along, you believe should dedicate the resources we don't have to a Slayer who's not in trouble and tells us to go away?"

Xander's eyes narrowed in thought. "Yes."

"Whoa, hold up," Buffy said. "That's like forcing her to be a Slayer."

"No, it's more like keeping an eye out for trouble, no pun intended, and if she changes her mind, she has the option to come to us," Xander said. "I mean, once we know who she is and where she is, how hard is it to keep up with her local newspaper? Not very. If we get the Sunnydale weird vibe, we contact her to make sure she's okay."

"And we'll be doing this, when? In between searching for other Slayers? Slayers who desperately need our help? Whose lives may be at risk? Whose families are being targeted?" Robin threw his hands up in the air. "We have limited people, limited time, and too damn much work as it is. We should concentrate on Slayers who wantto be Slayers or are **in trouble**. The girls who aren't interested can be given information about who they are and a way to contact us if they're in trouble or change their minds."

"Assuming they'll even know they're in trouble before trouble strikes. That could mean a death sentence," Xander commented.

"It stinks, I agree," Robin rounded on him. "But we may **need **to make some hard choices that none of us like. As much as I would **like **to be idealistic about this, I **have** to be a realist if we are going to succeed. All of us have to be if we…"

"Is he saying what I think he's saying?" Vi interrupted.

"Rationing," Xander stated coldly. 

"Conserving our energy," Robin corrected. "We should focus our efforts on the Slayers who need our help or want to…"

"And what **other **things are going to make the checklist," Xander hotly interrupted. "Is a Slayer. Check. Wants to be a Slayer. Check. Willing to train hard. Check. Willing to put up with mind-numbing, endless patrols. Check. Wants to fit in a ballet career between Slaying. Ooops. Sorry. No can do. We only accept you if your totally committed to the special Slayer plan."

"You're twisting my words," Robin shouted back. "That's **not **what I'm saying."

"Really?" Xander glared. "Because I'm thinking all this discussion about limited resources and focusing only on the committed is going to lead us right on down that road."

"And once again, that's not what I…" Robin began.

"Welcome to our brave new world," Giles interrupted. "Somehow I don't think this is what Huxley had in mind."

"Robin's got a point, Xander," Kennedy said. "Once we get the brush-off, we can't just hang out in the background, even if it's from a distance. If the object of our obsession finds out, we'll get slapped with a restraining order because we're stalking a young girl. Leaving a business card is about the best we can do."

"I'm **not **talking about stalking. There's no stalking involved," Xander protested. "Is anyone even listening to me?"

"I heard ya," Faith said quietly.

"So did I," Vi said. "And for the record, I'm with Xander. The situation stinks, but keeping an eye on the Slayers we find, even if they don't join the Slaying-is-cool squad, is the best we can do."

"Robin's right," Buffy said. "The whole point of the spell was to give girls the **choice**. And guess what? Someday, somewhere, they'll get that choice."

"But they don't in the here and now," Willow said.

"Yes they do," Buffy said. "Okay, they've got the Slayer powers, but that doesn't mean they have to **be **Slayers. They can be whatever they want. They can achieve anything. It's up to them if they want to work with us or not. Bad situation, but we're trying to do the best we can and much as it kills me that Robin's right, he's right."

"You can't be **serious**," Xander said.

"We don't have enough people or resources," Buffy pointed out. "If we did, that would be different and I'd hiking you on my shoulders and carrying you around the house. But if they say no, we have to leave them with as much information as we possibly can, walk away, and work with people who want to work with us or help the Slayers who need help."

"And if they decide to rob banks, we're just going to let that slide?" Faith asked. "Count me on Xander's side."

"Me, too," Andrea said.

"Side? What? Whoa. Hold up. There **are **no sides here," Xander protested. "All on the same team, remember? I just made a suggestion on how to deal with…look, the **last **thing we need is to argue about this. I'm just doing a 'what if'."

"But it's something we **will **have to deal with, sooner or later," Giles said as he looked thoughtfully at Xander. 

"But we aren't." Xander sounded desperate. "At least, we're not dealing with it yet." His eyes locked on Willow. "Besides, we have other problems. Tell 'em Wills.

"Ahhh, yes. Finding the arrow," Giles said, although his eyes didn't leave the squirming Xander. "How is that going?"

"It's not," Willow admitted. "And that's a **huge **problem."

"Agreed," Robin said. "They've only been here a couple of days and we've been at each others' throats since they got here. I shudder to think what would happen if the visit stretches out to a month."

***

"This is getting worse and worse and worse and worse and worse and worse…"

"We **know **Charlie, we **know**," Catherine dejectedly said.

"No, I don't think you **do.**" Charlie was on the verge of jumping up and down. "Mush, people! We are talking **smushed **on re-entry! At this point, there's not going to be anything left for us to **save**! Assuming we survive going back! This is bad, bad, bad, bad…"

"Charlie," Catherine growled her warning.

"You must admit, Charlie does have a point," J'Nal calmly said. "However, doctor, you really do need to settle down since we don't know…"

"Look at him! Calm as a vegetable!" the doctor flung his arm in the witch's direction. "How can you just **sit **there! Wiggle your fingers, mutter something incomprehensible, and **do **something!"

Catherine dropped her head in her hands while next to her Ruda held her breath. Charlie-and-J'Nal bickering in times of stress was legendary among the Watcher Honorias. 

"I do **not '**wiggle my fingers,'" J'Nal protested.

"Well, whatever the hada you do, just do it!" Yup. Charlie was well on his way to full-blown hysterics. "Make them forget or something."

"I **can't**!" J'Nal shouted back. "It's against every principle that we…"

"People!" Catherine shouted as she jumped to her feet. "Arguing about this isn't helping!"

"Especially since we can pretty much point the fingers at everyone in the room," Ms. Tikri said quietly from her corner.

"Don't look at **me**," Charlie huffed as he crossed his arms. "I've been a lot more careful than anyone else around…"

"J'Nal is pretty much the only one who **hasn't** inadvertently given something away," Catherine corrected.

"Oh really?" Charlie began. "I gave away nothing more than what I needed to in order to explain…"

"You told Giles that the journal in my possession was written by one of the Founders," Catherine said with deadly quiet. "You didn't need to say that."

"So? It's not like he knows who your Founders **are**," Charlie huffed.

"They know the journal's from 2008. It's not a huge leap of logic to figure out that someone living in this house right now wrote it," Catherine pointed out.

"Something tells me they're not big on logic," J'Nal grumbled.

"Here, here," Ms. Tikri muttered.

"Giles strikes me as logical and if he starts thinking about it…" Catherine trailed off. "I don't know if you noticed, but we're in a house full of Slayers. We won't be able to stop them if they decide to take the journal from me. If that happens…"

"Definite mashed Charlie," the doctor finished for her.

"See Charlie? It can **always **get worse," J'Nal pointed out.

Charlie began pacing, hands clenching and unclenching. "This is just unbelievable!"

Catherine made a defeated sound. Much as she adored Charlie as a friend and respected him as a doctor, when he melted down like this—which on those rare occasions it happened tended to happen in the lull between Very Bad Things Are Happening—it was best to let him run out of steam until he could think clearly. There was no point in trying to get him to shut up until then.

He spun and pointed at the still-standing Catherine and Ruda sitting on the end of the bed. "How could you just **forget** that Potentials automatically become Slayers in this time period? How?"

"Don't look at me," Ruda protested, "**I **thought Potentials always had the choice. I didn't know. Besides, who thought of **that **stupid system? One minute you're a Potential and then—WHAM—next minute you're a Slayer. What happens if the Potential doesn't want it? Or what happens if the Potential isn't right in the head? That's just **asking **for trouble."

"I knew it, but I just forgot." Catherine ran a hand through her loosened hair. "It's one of those trivia questions that they stick on a history exam to see if you read all the material and you forget the answer right after you check true or false. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

"If we're pointing fingers, let's not forget pointing one at me," Ms. Tikri said, a cascade of ice blonde hair hiding her face. "I completely lost control of my interview with Buffy Summers. By all that's holy, the fallout from that **alone**…"

"I'll be damned. A witnesser even thinking about taking responsibility?" Charlie sarcastically asked as Ms. Tikri cringed under the verbal assault. "You must **really **be afraid we'll haul you before the Commission to get your license pulled."

"Assuming there's a Commission to haul her in front of," Catherine said. "And can I just point out again that—with the exception of J'Nal—none of us are innocent here." 

"I know, she's worried we'll haul her before the Slayer Judiciary Committee and make her explain why all their religions disappeared without a trace," Charlie snarled.

"Stop it!" Ruda was on her feet. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! It just **happens** and she didn't mean it! And sometimes you just want it to happen! Leave her alone!" On that note Ruda stomped into an adjoining room and shut the door firmly behind her, leaving her stunned teammates to look at each other in shock.

A few uncomfortable beats of silence later, Catherine turned to follow her Slayer. "Not another word until I get back," she ordered over her shoulder as she opened the door.

When she entered the room she saw Ruda staring vacantly up at the ceiling. Catherine took a deep breath, shut the door behind her, and sank on the edge of the bed. "Hey," she quietly said.

"Hey." Ruda's voice sounded like she wanted to cry.

"Don't let it get to you," Catherine soothed. "You made an honest mistake and…"

"I met Knowles-sen tonight."

Catherine scrambled through her mental rolodex for a few tics until she could picture the encyclopedic entry in her mind's eye. _Knowles, Violet (Hero)._ She could feel her tongue stumbling for a few more tics after that until words finally dropped from her lips. "Which one is she?"

"The one with the hat." Ruda sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, looking younger and more uncertain than Catherine had ever seen her.

Catherine felt her eyes narrowing with the mental effort of trying to come up with face to match the name and failed miserably.

"She was on patrol with me tonight, along with Lanoire-rah-sen and Andrea," the way Ruda said 'Andrea' was a pretty clear indication that she didn't like the girl. 

Catherine scrubbed both her hands in her hair. _I am such an idiot. I didn't **think**. _"Ruda, I'm sorry. I should've never let you go on…"

"You were just giving in because I begged," Ruda flashed her weak smile. "You can't resist big eyes and I know it."

Catherine reached out and played with a strand of her Slayer's hair. "Most deadly weapon in the Ruda arsenal. We should package it and give it to all the other Slayers to help them manipulate their Watchers, too." When Ruda giggled, Catherine let her hand drop and quietly asked, "So that's why the big explosion back there, hunh little girl?"

"She's really nice, you know," Ruda said, sinking again into low spirits. "And she's funny, and she's sweet. And she has no idea what's going to happen. And I can't do anything about it."

Catherine frowned, this time because she had connected name to story and could feel for what her Slayer was going through. "No, you really can't," she agreed.

"But it's not fair." Ruda's chin sank to her upright knees. "I'm supposed to **save **people and that includes yelling 'Look out, bad things ahead' when people are about to walk right into it. Just doing nothing when you can stop it is **wrong**."

"Unless it's the right thing to do," Catherine disagreed. "Every screw-up we've done…well…we don't know how it'll affect the future. For all we know, time might be more resilient than we think and everything we've said and done might fall on deaf ears and nothing changes."

"Or the wrong breath at the wrong time means we've got no home to go back to. I know, I know," Ruda said. "I was awake during the lecture the Prima made us sit through three times."

"Look, tell you what, if it turns out that we've screwed up the timeline beyond salvaging, you can yell 'look out' all you want at all the people you want because then it won't matter any more. Deal?" Catherine asked.

"I'll be good until then," Ruda promised, as she looked at Catherine with suspiciously bright eyes. "Is it wrong for me to hope things go really, really wrong so I can do that?"

Catherine gave her Slayer a tight smile. "No. Not at all. I'd be more worried if you didn't." She looked back at the door. "Why don't you rest a bit, hmmm? Let me smack some sense into the Battling Beebles out there and we'll come up with a plan to limit the chances of us really making a mess of things."

Ruda let go of her knees with a breath and was back to staring at the ceiling. Catherine leaned down, planted a gentle kiss on the girl's head, and headed for the door.

"Catherine?"

"What is it little girl?"

"How do you do it? Knowing what's going to happen to everyone in this house and how it all ends up? How come you don't want to tell them about all the big, great things they're going do and all the big, terrible things that they've got to face?"

Catherine crossed her arms, looked down in thought, and asked a question where she knew the answer is 'no.' "Did I ever tell you what the First Slayer said to me before she attacked me in the desert?"

Ruda sat up. "The First Slayer never speaks to you before she attacks you. You don't get your personal message until **after**."

"I know, which is why I never told anyone about this or about my personal message. But you've got to promise to keep a secret. This is between me and you."

Ruda nodded.

Catherine took a breath and let it out. "I was in the desert and I really had no idea what I wanted. I didn't want to be a Slayer, but I didn't want to be the first in my family to walk away. Follow?"

"Yeah."

"So, I hear a growl and there She was, standing right behind me. She was just watching me, head turned to the side like this," Catherine tilted her head to the left, "and She said, 'You think you know what's to come, what you are. You haven't even begun.' Then she attacked me."

Ruda's forehead creased in a frown. "What does that mean?"

Catherine went to the window and looked outside at the odd Taran greenery that seemed to glow in the moonlight. "If you asked me last week, I would've had no idea. It's just one of those things I shoved in the back of my brain and didn't think too much about it. It didn't make sense and, because I wasn't a Slayer, I figured what She said didn't apply anymore. Since we got here though," she turned around to face Ruda giving her temple a single tap, "I keep hearing Her."

"Catherine, do you think She knew you'd…"

"I don't know," the Watcher Honoria shoved her hands in her pants pockets. "All I know is that everyone I look at—everyone in this house—the Founders, the Founding Lights, the -sens and the sinners, all I can see is them stumbling around in the dark. They **think** they have a plan, they **think **they know who they are, they may even have a pretty good idea of what they **think **the future has in store for them. Or, they may be feeling their way along the path with no idea of where they should go from here. In either case, they honestly don't know who they are and what's to come because they can't know." 

"I know," Ruda said in a low voice.

Catherine sat on the edge of the bed again, tapped a finger under Ruda's chin, and lifted the Slayer's face up so she could look directly into her eyes. "The point is, when I look at all these people all I can think of is this: their future is our past. They're at the beginning. What they started, well, that story keeps going and the fact we exist proves that. But the details of who they are, who they'll become, they'll never know that until their individual stories end. Maybe that's the way it should be, for their sake and for ours. We don't know if telling them the future changes everything, which would be bad for us. We don't know if telling them will change nothing, which means we'd be torturing them with knowledge they can't do anything about."

"So best to say nothing at all."

"Until we know for sure," Catherine agreed as she stood up. "Get some rest."

As she turned to the door, Ruda again called her to a halt.

"Catherine? What **was **your personal message after you said no?"

Catherine looked over her shoulder and said as gently as she could, "Not for your ears."

"Fair enough," Ruda yawned, obviously feeling at least a little better for the talk. "'Night."

"No Slaying the pillow," Catherine joked their old joke as she slid out the door.

On entering the other room, she was relieved to see that Ruda's uncharacteristic outburst had quieted everyone into shamed silence. All three occupants gave her long-faced expressions as she clasped her hands behind her back and fixed them all with a glare.

"It's no secret we have a problem," Catherine stated.

Three heads nodded in agreement, but three mouths kept shut.

"That little Ruda-tantrum you just witnessed is because she's doing her duty to the best of her ability by giving as little away as she can, even though in some cases it goes against everything she holds dear as a Slayer," Catherine said tightly. "We can do no less than live up to her example."

"How?" Ms. Tikri asked. "Don't take this the wrong way, but we have no idea what's going to tip the balance or if it's been already tipped."

"Pity we can't check," Charlie said.

"Can't check until we open the portal to send us back," J'Nal reminded him. "And I can't even **try **to open the portal for a few more days because…"

"There's a good chance of everything going boom **or **that your head will explode **or **that we'll mashed into mush," Charlie finished for him. "**Why **did we think this could work again?"

"I hate unanswered questions. They give me a stomachache because then I think I'm not doing my job," Ms. Tikri said. "Short of locking ourselves in these rooms for the rest of the stay, I don't see how…"

"Good idea!" Catherine smiled. "Separation of us from them is the best way to go."

"Hold on. Wait. Bad idea. Very bad idea," Ms. Tikri protested. "Interviews! Bosses! Bar bills that need to be paid for! I've got a job that I have to…"

"Do so you can make an even bigger mess?" Charlie asked with deceptive sweetness.

"Young love in bloom does my heart good," J'Nal commented with amusement.

While Charlie and Ms. Tikri gave J'Nal offended 'heys' in stereo—most notably because they didn't actually like each other—Catherine bit her lip in thought.

"Fine. We can't cut off completely. But we should limit exposure to doing only what is **absolutely necessary** to succeed," Catherine decided. "J'Nal, you'll be working with Willow and Alexander, since they've been assigned to find the Arrow and you've proven that you can stay out of the most trouble. The rest of us will stick to our quarters and if we need to mingle with the people in the house, we keep the conversation to the weather, what they're doing, anything that keeps us focused on the here and now."

"But…" Ms. Tikri began a protest.

"You can finish your interviews," Catherine sighed. "You've at least shown awareness that you could cause problems if you let too much infor slip. I'm sure you'll be more mindful of it in the future."

Ms. Tikri looked surprised to get a concession as she said, "Thank you."

"But…" Charlie began his protest.

"Ms. Tikri has a job to do and she **is **a professional," Catherine said through a clenched jaw, a clear sign that Charlie was stepping dangerously close to her last nerve. "As it stands right now, she hasn't conducted all the interviews she wants and, given some muttered comments I've heard while she's organized her notes, she does not have a balanced picture of this household. In the interests of historical accuracy, I'm letting her move ahead."

"Unh, thanks." Ms. Tikri's surprise had turned to shock. 

"Are we agreed?" Catherine asked.

Both Charlie and J'Nal knew that "Are we agreed?" pretty much meant, "I'm giving you a direct order and you better follow it and behave," so they nodded.

"Good," Catherine gave a single clap. "To bed, everyone."

Charlie and J'Nal grumbled their good nights and headed to a second adjoining room, leaving a hesitating Ms. Tikri behind. Noticing that the witnesser was working up the courage to talk, Catherine rubbed her temples and snapped, "What is it?"

"Look, really, thank you. And I think you're right. But," she took a breath and spit it out, "you've really got to watch yourself, too."

"I **know** that, Ms. Tikri," Catherine said wearily.

The blonde's expression was sympathetic as she contradicted, "I know you do, but I don't think you do at the same time."

"Oh, really," Catherine deadpanned, her jaw set.

"Your interactions with Robin Wood," Ms. Tikri pointed out, "pretty much tells everyone in the immediate vicinity that you want to shove him out an airlock without an environsuit and watch him explode into chunky, bloody bits."

"I'll be more polite," Catherine said through a warning clenched jaw.

"I don't think you're wrong, by the way," Ms. Tikri quickly added.

That admission stopped Catherine cold and she looked at the shuffling witnesser. _Taking sides? Since when does a witnesser do **that**? She got what she wanted, so what's her game?_

"The thing is, the Watchers Educationary, well, we know who their Founding Light is and we know their opinion of miscegenation between Watchers and Slayers," Ms. Tikri thoughtfully looked at Catherine. "Much as your family has contributed and sacrificed for centuries, it's no secret that they believe your bloodline, and a number of others associated with the Council Honoria, are a travesty."

Catherine suppressed her anger at the witnesser for bringing up ancient history and old personal hurts. "You make it sound like the Watchers Honoria have no morality when it comes to how Watchers interact with their Slayers…"

"Not saying your Council doesn't. In fact, in its own way, the Honoria Code of Conduct is as restrictive as the Council Educationary's, with the key difference being that at least the Council Honoria is willing to accept that sometimes the human heart is what it is." 

"Why Ms. Tikri, are you suggesting one system is better than the other?" 

The witnesser waved her hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter to me. The Council Educationary can paint the Council Honoria as light on morality all they want, but I've never seen a scandal erupt with the Council Honoria like the one I covered with the Council Educationary three standard years ago. Seems to me that admitting to the possibility has put the Council Honoria in a better position to police its own."

"Police," Catherine deadpanned. "We're not like that. I'll have you know that I attended Giddeon's wedding—Giddeon who is **still **a Watcher Honoria in good standing—when he married Selina who was his Slayer."

"Who probably had her assigned to another Watcher the **second **he realized he was falling for her and who probably didn't even do **that **until she was of age," Ms. Tikri said.

"That's **procedure**," Catherine protested. Her eyes narrowed. "Ms. Tikri, need I remind you that they don't have anything resembling a Code of Conduct like we've got in our own…"

Ms. Tikri's expression turned sly. "Don't worry about that. Especially since there weren't any problems in the case you're clearly worried about, at least according to all the information we have. And we do have a **lot **of information even from quarters that were, shall we say, less likely to give your Founders their due. But, follow me here, it seems to **me** that a certain Founding Light, the very person who suggested that the Watcher's line needs to stay separate for the Slayer line at all costs because it might affect the Watcher's judgment? Not exactly following his own good advice, is he?"

Catherine swallowed hard. Oooooh, this was tempting. Very tempting. Much as she wanted to agree, it was wrong to go along with what Tikri was hinting, especially since her entire family going back to this very household wasn't in any position to shoot arrows at atmospheric force fields. "Ms. Tikri, you are **not **going stick knives into **anyone's** back. I don't care **who **it is. Sheathe the claws, do your job, and don't drown someone just because…"

"That's what I thought you'd say," Ms. Tikri's expression shifted from sly to relieved and, dare Catherine even think this, almost friendly. "Thing is, I know how hard it was for you to say that. I know given the long contentious history between the two Councils that it's very difficult for you to see Robin Wood as nothing more than a bug that needs to be squashed. Just, I don't know, back off. Try to be a little more professional about it."

"Is this off the record?" Catherine asked suspiciously.

Ms. Tikri held her empty hands in the air. "See? Nothing crossed. Not my toes or legs either. Off the record."

"I can't help how I feel," Catherine admitted.

"So feel it," Ms. Tikri shrugged. "Hada, I can't tell you how many disgusting human beings I've interviewed in my career and they have no clue how much I wanted to strangle them with my bare hands. The trick is to be good at not showing it. As you pointed out, it could be anything that might destroy our home, that includes dirty looks I'd think."

Catherine just hated the fact that the witnesser had a point. "Aren't you supposed to be a pain in the astrum?"

Ms. Tikri gave her a perfectly toothy smile. "And don't you forget it."

"So what's with the friendly advice? I thought you weren't on anyone's side."

The witnesser gave Catherine an eloquent raised eyebrow. "When it comes to making sure we all get back in one piece to a future we can all recognize? Near as I can tell, there's only one side I **can** be on."

TBC…


	29. Spotlight on Vi

****

Part 29: Spotlight on Vi

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Violet Knowles**, known as **Hero-Knowles** to the Councils Honoria and Educationary and known as **Knowles-sen** to all Slayers whatever their beliefs, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

In the annals of Slayer ethics, **Violet Knowles **has long been held up as an example of everything a Slayer should aspire to: bravery, loyalty, self-sacrifice, friendship, esprit de crops…the list goes on. 

Quite often, she is pictured as a tough-as-nails woman with a heart of gold. Muscular, beautiful, smart, and wise beyond her years, these characteristics are what fuel her reputation in our time. Journal entries after her death in 2007, where she single-handedly saved the city of Cleveland by exploding a bomb in the city's sewers to wipe out a band of armed Kracs intent on starting a chain reaction in the Cleveland Hellmouth, are the sources of this belief.

****

Rona Goodkind-Alvarez, famous for her pointed observations about early life in Cleveland and residents of the Taran United Watchers Council building, was partnered with **Hero-Knowles **in her early years under the tutelage of **Faith Lanoire-rah **and **Alexander Harris-rah.** In later years, **Ms. Goodkind-Alvarez** went on to become one of the leading Slayers in Cleveland before retiring at age 86 to spend more time with her great-grandchildren and to write about her experiences. She had this to say about her dear friend: "The first time I realized that Vi had a spine of steel when we were in that bus escaping Sunnydale. I was wounded and all I wanted to do was just give it up, bleed to death right there on the seats. Vi's standing over me shouting, 'This is nothing! Do you hear me! Nothing!' It was her way of ordering me to keep fighting, to keep living, no matter how much it hurt. I'm hurting and bleeding, maybe even more than I was when I was on that stupid bus, and I can **still **hear her yelling at me, 'This is nothing!' But it's something, even if Vi might not think so. Still, I know an order when I hear it. There's nothing for it but to keep going, knowing that Vi's somewhere out there grinning her fool head off at me every time I do something stupid." [TouchInfor Reference_:_ **Goodkind-Alvarez**,** R.**, Journal Entry 5409 circa 2007.]

****

Lanoire-rah had this to say of her student: "We should've been here instead of chasing off after a Slayer gone bonkers in Columbia. That's what I keep telling myself, even though I know it's a load of crap. I had to be the one to go, which meant Buffy had to stay. Xander refused to let me go alone and no matter what I said he was going with, end of story. Thank god he did, given what happened down there. We left Rona and Vi behind because we wanted to protect them from, well, a ghost I guess. We didn't want them to see what happens when a Slayer really loses it. So we took Kennedy instead, which while we were there turned out to be a smart move, but to come back and find— Buffy was there, but she was tied up in keeping the Kracs' above ground forces from eating people. Rona was getting the human sacrifices held captive in the sewers to safety. The second Rona hits the street with her payload she hears this boom and— I can't even think about this now. Christ. It's not like it's the first time we lost someone, but this is the first time the loss is personal." [TouchInfor Reference_:_ **Lanoire, F.**, Journal Entry 5844 circa 2007.]

****

Harris-rah offered this in the memory of his charge: "Everyone says there's nothing I could've done. Rona Lisa's especially pushing that point, probably because she wants to blame herself and can't really come around to blaming me. But if I didn't fail Vi, who did? I keep going over that battle and it kills me that I just can't see the alternative, except for someone taking Vi's place in that sewer. This is beyond hard. I saw Vi go from a girl who really wasn't sure about the whole Slayer deal to someone who saw being Slayer as not just a calling, but also a responsibility to save human life, even at the cost of her own. She truly believed she was on a mission from God, not in an annoying smug way, but in the kind of way that gives a good name to people who believe in such things. She once said about being a Slayer: 'When we count up our riches at the end of our lives, it shouldn't be about money, or about fame. It should be about whether we made the world a better place for us being in it.' If that's the case, than Vi is the richest of us all." [TouchInfor Reference_:_ **Harris, A.**, Journal Entry 5705 circa 2007.]

For all that others have written about her, **Hero-Knowles **is not as easy to spot in the crowd as you might think. Finding her was a challenge, made more of a challenge because her sister-in-arms was absent from the house for personal reasons. But upon seeing her, one is struck by the fact that there's very little extraordinary about her. She doesn't stand out. Her disposition is sweet, her voice halting. Every once in a while, you might see a flash of something else, something made of sterner stuff.

Once you begin talking to her, one discovers that deceptive physical appearance aside; legend got the deeper truth exactly right.

[Moment of silence while **UNS **brings her expression under control.]

And now **Violet Knowles, **truly one of the best and brightest, in her own words in an exclusive interview with **UNS**.

****

UNS: I have to say, I'm very happy you're taking the time to talk to me.

****

VK: [smiles] Probably because I'm not a huge icon that's intimidating, right?

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UNS: That's not…umm…what I'm trying to say is that it's great to be talking to someone who is a veteran of the First Battle of Sun'dayl and was there at Ground Zero.

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VK: You don't know the half of it.

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UNS: I'm sure preparing and planning for the First Battle of Sun'dayl was stressful.

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VK: There was planning? {giggle} Sorry. Couldn't resist. It's just that it was a pretty confusing time for everyone, you know? 

****

UNS: So I understand from people I've talked to. Actually, tell me more about you.

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VK: Well, I'm Violet Knowles, but you knew that. I'm originally from Witchita, which is in Kansas, which is a state in the United States, which is part of North America, in the Western Hemisphere, on planet earth, I mean Tara, in the Milky Way Galaxy.

****

UNS: Everyone on my team is from the Milky Way, too.

****

VK: Oh. Ummm, anyway, I have two brothers, my parents are still married, and I was raised Methodist. When I was 15 this man showed up on my doorstep and said that he was a Watcher and that I was 'in line' for maybe becoming a Slayer one day.

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UNS: How did you react?

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VK: I completely freaked out. I mean, at first I thought he was one of those perverts you hear about, you know? But he was standing in my front yard in full view of the street, like he knew I'd be thinking the worst. So anyway, I was really, really scared. He left, came back the next day—by this time I told my parents what happened—only this time he had a woman with him. They explained the whole thing again to me, this time with my parents sitting there. They showed us a lot of books and pictures and really took the time to tell me and my parents about me being a Potential and what that actually meant. Then they offered to train me.

****

UNS: What happened?

****

VK: Well, my parents are really religious. So they told them to come back after Sunday service because they wanted to think and pray on the whole thing. Anyway, Sunday comes, and I'm still thinking about it because I'm really not too sure that it's even real. I mean, how can it be? I'm just Violet, I get straight Bs, I'm not the prettiest girl in my class, or the most athletic. I don't **look **all that special, you know? I'm just me. Anyway, we go to church and…you ever notice how sometimes when you're looking for an answer God just hands you one? 

****

UNS: I…guess.

****

VK: So the Gospel reading that day is the parable about The Talents. And the minister in his sermon points out that the more you have, the more responsibility you've got to your community. It's not enough just to **have **it, but you have to **share **it. I remember what he said to this day: 'Our riches cannot be measured in money, our riches cannot be measured in fame. Our riches can only be measured in how we make the world a better place.'

****

UNS: That's…that's…[checks MemePad for Council Honoria's Coat of Arms] Lovely. I've heard something like it before.

****

VK: [quietly] Yeah. [louder] Anyway after that it was a lock. I was going to train, although my Watcher, Kimberly, told me that I might never get called because Buffy and Faith were very good about staying alive.

****

UNS: How'd you feel about that?

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VK: Relieved! I mean, the way I figured it I should train just in case, but I was really hoping I'd never need it. [laughs] Funny how it all works out in the end.

****

UNS: Yes, yes it is. So, how'd you get to Sun'dayl?

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VK: My Watcher had to go back to London for a big meeting. Next thing I know, Giles shows up on my doorstep with a couple of other Potentials and tells me that I have to get going to Sunnydale **right now** because there's Bringers on my tail and they'd kill anyone who tried to stop them, including my parents. 

****

UNS: And you went? Just like that?

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VK: Look, I would've let myself drown in slaughterhouse dung if I thought it would keep my parents safe. I was scared out of my mind, but I went. On the way to Sunnydale Giles told me that Kim and all the other Watchers were killed. Then there was Sunnydale and then Sunnydale was gone. Now we're here and I'm what I never thought I'd be: a Slayer.

****

UNS: Do you feel differently now? About being a Slayer.

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VK: [squirms] Sometimes yes, sometimes no. If it wasn't for Rona—she's my bestest friend ever—I'd come down more on the no side. But having a friend like her makes it a lot easier because she's going through the same thing I'm going through and we can talk to each other. I have to admit, meeting Ruda and knowing about Slayers in the future and how they get a choice instead of "Tag! You're it!" has pushed me more to "yes." Oh, and I can't forget, Xander makes it easier because he's always there to listen when it just gets too much to take. I don't know how he knows when you're ready to fall over, but he just **does** and he's right there even before you realize you need him to lean on and it's like, I don't know, like he can read your mind or something because he manages to tell you what you need to hear so you can take that next step. And much as I sometimes really hate Robin, he makes it easier too because I know he's making sure we're getting the best training possible so we'll be able to stay alive that much longer. 

****

UNS: What about everyone else?

****

VK: You know? It's funny, but I really don't…well, I know the other new Slayers, of course. But I really don't know Buffy, Faith, or…I guess if I were being **completely** honest, the only person in the inner circle I really know is Xander, and that's only because he's made the effort to try and get to know me, well, all of us really. I'm still trying to figure out everyone else.

****

UNS: One thing I'm interested in hearing is maybe some anecdotes about how you see yourself and the other people in the house.

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VK: [smiling] Because they're the important people your readers **really **want to know about?

****

UNS: Unh, no, I mean, don't think you haven't been forgotten because you haven't. I mean…

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VK: Hey! It's okay. It's not about the fame, remember? [peers at MemePad] Although it's kind of nice I'm mentioned somewhere. But it's not the important thing. [leans back thoughtfully] I don't know…let me think…let me think…Oh! I got it! I got one that involves **everyone**. I think your readers will really like it.

****

UNS: [settles back with a smile] Let's hear it.

****

VK: This was June? No. July. I think the middle of July, because it was after the Fourth. We'd been in this house a week at most. I know because Xander was dealing with contractors and painters and we were still living out of boxes. Anyway, a couple of us noticed that Xander and Willow were hanging out in corners talking, I mean, they were doing it **all **the time. Whenever one of us would get close enough to hear, they'd clam up. So one or two people start thinking that Willow's got something going on the side with Xander and we were wondering how Kennedy was going to take it if she found out. I mean, she's dating Willow, but she likes Xander because he saved her life back in Sunnydale.

****

UNS: Sounds like the beginning of a soap opera.

****

VK: Yeah. Very _One Life to Live_. Anyway, one day Willow and Xander disappear. [snaps fingers] Just like that they're gone. All we've got is a note saying that they're taking off for a few days and that they'll be back. So some of us figure, 'Oh-oh, Kennedy's gonna blow a gasket.'

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UNS: Did she?

****

VK: Well, that should've tipped us off that **something **was up, because she's totally cool with it. I'd even say smug, like she knew something none of us did. A week goes by, no word. You can see Giles is really worried and Robin's really annoyed. I heard Buffy in Giles's room telling Giles how we had to do something to find them because something bad might've happened. Andrew's so worried that he burned an **entire **batch of chocolate chip cookies. Even Kennedy started getting nervous because she hadn't heard anything either. So the house was a little tense.

****

UNS: I can imagine.

****

VK: Anyway, nine days after they disappear, there's a knock on the door. Kennedy looks out the window, starts laughing, and says that she'll get it. She walks over the door and opens it like 'Taa-Daa!' And who's standing there? Xander and Willow, dressed **completely **in black, wearing black skullcaps with their hair all tucked up underneath, and their faces all greased black. They come marching in like conquering heroes and place this really long box on the living room floor.

****

UNS: [starts giggling in anticipation] What did they bring home? A vampire in his casket?

****

VK: I'm **getting **to that. Anyway, they won't let anyone near the box until the whole house is there and Xander gets a crowbar. Now, everyone's trying to figure out what happened, so you can bet everyone was in that room in less than five minutes. So there's Xander, with the crowbar, and there's Willow trying not to laugh while she hugs Kennedy. Once we're ready, he pries open the box and reveals all. [pauses dramatically]

****

UNS: Come on!

****

VK: And what to our wondering eyes see? A rocket launcher! {guffaw} Buffy starts laughing, and clapping, and jumping up and down like it's all her birthdays rolled into one going, 'I can't you believe you did this! I can't believe it! How did you do it? C'mon spill! I want detail-y details!' Giles is trying to look stern and you can see he's trying not to smile while he's all, 'What foolish stunt have you two pulled?' Faith's looking at this thing and she's like, 'What the hell?' Robin's inspecting the rocket launcher ummming and ahhhhing like he's about to wet his pants he's so impressed. Dawn just runs across the room and throws her arms around Xander's neck going, 'That's sooooo cooooool!' The rest of us don't know **what **to make of it because this is a **rocket launcher**. 

****

UNS: [laughs] I bet there's a story behind the story.

****

VK: Oh, yeah. Once things calmed down, it turned out that they had even more. They'd been hauling rocket launcher, ammunition, plastic explosives, electronic gear to set it off, grenades, I mean, a full military selection of all the things that go 'boom!' in this rented SUV they had. 

****

UNS: [shifts in seat uncomfortably] I, unh…

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VK: They'd been driving like bats out of hell all day and night with the cargo to get it home as quickly as possible. What was **really **funny is how the whole thing started.

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UNS: [edge of seat] Go on.

****

VK: I guess Willow and Xander grew up together and they used to have this game: "How would you…" Mostly it was kid stuff, like, how would you rob a bank, or how would you pull off the perfect crime, or how would you become a superhero, you know, the kind of thing you do when you're bored and you want to be someone else. Well anyway, this one day while we're still living in a Cleveland motel, they start playing, "How would you…" It's the first time they've done it in **years.** So Willow brings up, 'How would you break into a military installation in a post-9/11 world?' And Xander's like, 'Oh! That's easy!' and tells Willow how he did it the first time.

****

UNS: Wait! Alexander had done this before?

****

VK: Yeah. Buffy told us that she was once up against nasty demon called The Judge that couldn't be killed by a sword, so Xander, Willow, and some friends broke into this military base and stole a rocket launcher. She had to kill this Judge in a shopping mall full of people! Can you imagine that? Standing in a mall holding this big thing and setting it off? 

****

UNS: Didn't she get into trouble?

****

VK: No. Turns out that in the aftermath the news reports somehow turned Buffy into a Chinese terrorist acrobat named Soon-Li who was making a statement about the capitalist nature of America and had fired the rocket launcher in a mall to protest Western imperialism. {laughs} Go figure. Anyway, back to the **second **rocket launcher. Willow figures Xander's methods for getting into a military base aren't going to work what with all the increased security on military bases and tells him so and they kind of let it drop. About a week later, Xander and Willow are talking again and he says, right out of the blue, 'What would happen if we **needed **military hardware?' Willow points out that they only needed a rocket launcher the once, and **he **points out that she's right, a rocket launcher isn't normal Slayer weaponry, but when you **really **need it, you **really, really **need it. Willow thinks about it and they kind of start playing "How would you…" again, only this time it's to see if they **could **do it if they needed to.

****

UNS: That's when they started planning.

****

VK: No, it was still a game at that point. Willow'd go do some research stuff and Xander'd be like, 'Well, we'd need to do this, this, and this.' Eventually they kind of figure out that there's no way they could pull off what they did in Sunnydale on just the spur of the moment, so they drop it. For about a day. Then Willow's like, 'Well, why don't we just go get it **right now**, just in case.' **That's **when they started planning it for real.

****

UNS: Why not tell anyone else?

****

VK: Well, Willow told Kennedy, but only because she didn't want her to worry. Other than that they figured it was best if they didn't tell anyone because if they got caught, they didn't want to get us in trouble. The only magic they were using was minor glamour spells so that anyone who saw them wouldn't actually **see **them, just notice that something might be there. If someone had to notice them, it was only enough for them to rent cars or hotel rooms using these prepaid credit cards and driver's licenses with fake names that Willow managed to finagle. But anyone who did business with them wouldn't actually be able to remember what they looked like or even the fake names. Anyway, they wind up breaking into the Army's Rock Island Arsenal in Illinois and making out like **bandits**. The reason why it took them so long is because they had to case the base before pulling it off.

****

UNS: Was there any fallout from that?

****

VK: Not. A. Thing. I'm pretty sure **something **happened on the base and I'm pretty sure that someone is still looking for all the missing gear, but that's all a guess. I figure if we don't use it, they can't trace it to us. I mean, c'mon, do Xander and Willow **look **like terrorists who'd steal any property of the U.S. Government that might explode?

****

UNS: [softly] What do you plan to do with it?

****

VK: Emergency stash only, you know, in case we've got an unkillable demon or something like that running around. It's nice to know we'll have something on hand that'll at least slow it down if not blow it completely to bits. 

****

UNS: Aren't you afraid someone, say, you…or…or innocent civilians might get killed?

****

VK: Which is **why **we're going to read up on using them. Can you see it now? Someone goes down there and pulls the wrong pin and it's lights out for everyone. But, yeah, the innocent people thing is a problem. I know Rona and I talked about, you know, maybe adding shotguns or something to repertoire, but then we realized that you take a chance of hitting bystanders if you use them. A vampire can go from zero to 120 in no time flat, so there's no guarantee you'd be able to hit it, let alone shoot it in the kneecaps so you can stake at your leisure. We're still talking about though to see if we can't find a way around it.

****

UNS: That's…that's a pretty good story.

****

VK: Yeah. [thinks a bit] You know, it's kinda funny, but I think…it's stupid.

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UNS: No it's not.

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VK: You don't know what I'm going to say.

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UNS: I want to hear it anyway.

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VK: Promise you'll erase it if what I say if it sounds stupid?

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UNS: [crosses fingers behind MemePad] Of course!

****

VK: Okay. When I think the stunt, I dunno. Xander was just this sweet guy with the moral support, kinda like a big brother, you know? After that, he became the **cool **big brother. And Willow, who's like this really scary powerful witch, she became a little less scary and a little more, I dunno, human I guess. And you could see that Giles who is always this mysterious, proper guy, if you really squinted, maybe wasn't as proper English as we thought. And I think it's the only time I ever saw Buffy laugh, I mean, really **laugh **like she was fit to bust a gut and hug Willow and Xander like they were her best friends ever. You could see Robin just strategizing how all these new toys might be used, which was pretty cool to see. And for the first time **ever **Faith was shocked speechless, like she couldn't **believe **what just happened. She was just like the rest of us with all the questions and curiosity and she didn't care who saw her like that either.

****

UNS: So what are you saying?

****

VK: I guess what I'm trying to say is…well…for a moment, just a moment, I saw something in all of them. Something I'd never seen before. But it's like when you see it you can't help but notice that it's there all the time. Maybe it's who they were. Maybe it's who they're **going **to be. I dunno. It's like for this one night they weren't these people who were dictating our lives, or who'd changed our lives and the whole world forever, or who were taking care of us until we were ready to fight out there on our own. They were…they were all…

****

UNS: Yes?

****

VK: They were all people just like me. 

TBC…


	30. Crossing the Crossroads

****

Part 30: Crossing the Crossroads

They'd been chasing their tails looking for that damn arrow for three days. 

Three very long days. 

Even Ruda was beginning to show the wear of trying to keep a low profile after what may have been an inadvertent slip-up giving away a future secret of humungous proportions, or a "slip" that may have been one of the Reece's Pieces leading them all right into Big Badness.

Given the possibility that all of this might be a con to lure them all into a trap, and that one Xander Harris was one of the lead mice walking into it, a certain one-eyed someone found himself trying his best not to suggest that Willow turn the Sunlamp of Interrogation on the lot of them. He didn't even want to think about the possibility that any of these people might actually **be **from the future, because then he'd be chanting, "Go, Willow, go!" for sure. 

Didn't help that the only person still given free reign to talk to people was the Annoying Blonde One with the Funky Wardrobe and Freaky Plastic Pad. Frankly, if Xander had to deal one more second with Riki-Tiki-Tikri, he was going to find the biggest demonic snake in the greater metropolitan Cleveland area and feed her to it. He knew she was just doing her job, but the never-ending questions coupled with the enigmatic smile she gave him with every answer was driving him up the wall.

And why the hell did she give a rat's ass about him anyway? Like he gave a flying shit if people in the future found out he wasn't exactly the best candidate for –sen hood, -rah hood, the neighborhood, or any other kind of hood. 

About the only good thing he could see is that the whole situation drove Robin nuts. That's not to say their little reporter wasn't bugging him too, but the fact that everyone else from Future Space wasn't enamored of the son of a Slayer and even went so far as to pretend they had no clue who Robin Wood was or what role he played in the battle against the First was enough to cause their self-appointed leader to pull his hair out.

Too bad he didn't have any hair because **that **would've been fun to watch. Because a frustrated, distracted Robin was a Robin not taking potshots at Xander.

Xander humped his way into the Future Home of the Watcher's Library and Resource Center and flopped in a chair. "You know, it might be a whole lot fucking easier if Catherine would let us look at her book," Xander announced.

"Amen," Willow muttered.

"We can't do that," J'Nal corrected from his station at Willow's left elbow. "The purity of the timeline must be maintained."

"Oh, like yourpresence in Cleveland 2003 hasn't **already **screwed things up," Xander said with frustration. "Seems to me that you guys haven't done anything right."

"Circumstances…"

"Yeah, yeah, beyond your control, got it," Xander waved an irritated hand. "But **this **is getting us nowhere. You've given us all the clues to find your special arrow and we're finding nothing. Nada. How do you even know that we got all the information we needed to find this thing? Because, I gotta tell ya, your track record on knowing the little details that count really stinks. Hell, you can't even pronounce **Sunnydale **right."

Willow's and J'Nal's heads whipped around and they fixed Xander with the kind of look that warned he'd stepped over the line.

He really didn't care. 

"Jesus, you'd think we're gonna take all this top secret info and build the ultimate weapon or something," he ranted. "It's five fucking years in the future. I really doubt all **that **much is going to change in the Slaying life in that short time. It's not like I'm saying 'all your base are belong to us' and to cough up technology we wouldn't even know how to **use**. I just want a goddamn roadmap to get you sent back to wherever the hell you came from."

J'Nal swallowed hard and dropped his eyes. "Of course, Harris-rah. As you wish."

Xander snarled in frustration, although he wasn't sure if it was over the Harris-rah bit or because **no one **had started insisting that someone from the Cleveland crew take a crack at the journal that held all the clues.

A slow grin spread across Willow's face. "Thank you," the redhead sincerely said. "I've been telling my witchy friend here the same thing for the past two days. If I knew all I needed was for you to yell at him, I would've dragged you in here sooner."

"It hasn't been decided yet," J'Nal quickly said. "I do need to consult with…"

"Catherine. Yeah, yeah," Xander said. "But maybe you better point out that she's already screwed and she can't **possibly **make it any worse by showing us that journal."

***

"This is it. The big one," Charlie remarked from Catherine's right.

"What are you going to do?" Ruda asked from Catherine's left.

"We're getting nowhere," J'Nal said trying to hide his fear. "What if we're not meant to find it yet?"

Ms. Tikri huddled miserably in the corner, watching the debate through woebegone eyes.

"I don't know what to do," Catherine admitted.

The five of them sunk into depressed silence. They were frozen between a crash landing and space vacuum. The universe was holding its breath. The moment was balanced on the head of a pin.

It couldn't last.

Ms. Tikri, of all people, was the one who knocked it all out of whack. 

"I-I-I'm not going to pretend I know a thing about time travel," she uncharacteristically stuttered, her voice alto-low. "But, while we're here, is time standing still back there?"

All eyes turned to J'Nal. "I don't know," he admitted.

"What's the most likely possibility?" the witnesser asked.

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Charlie asked.

"Everything," Catherine answered for him as she looked up at J'Nal. "Please answer Ms. Tikri's question."

J'Nal let out a quiet huff of breath. "The best guess, the most likely answer, is that time is going forward normally. For every Taran day here, one standard day—maybe more or maybe less because the days don't match up precisely—passes."

"So we may be stuck here for more than seven days?" Charlie was calm as he asked the question, but Catherine knew he was keeping his nervousness under tight control. Hada, **she **was doing it, so it was a good bet that everyone was.

"More like eight Taran days because I want to be certain that the portal doesn't open too soon at the other end and cause problems. Eight-and-a-half to be really safe," J'Nal admitted.

"Every day here is another day when…" Ruda began. She looked at Catherine. "It happens so **fast**. What if the Great Darkness descends on another planet while we're here?"

"May have already happened," Tikri pointed out, "that is, if the attacks happen as quickly as reports make it seem."

"So, what you're saying is that because time is passing at the same rate in our own time, speed is of the essence," Catherine slowly said.

"Or when we go back, we show up five minutes after we left," J'Nal said, "Or we may show up…"

"Years after we left," Charlie finished for him. 

"I still can't believe someone thought this was a good idea before some of these basic questions got answered," Ms. Tikri mumbled.

"Desperate times," Charlie reminded her without heat. 

"Desperate times where the human race is running out of time," J'Nal agreed.

"So, if we do nothing and keep going the way we are, we may find out we don't have a home to go back to because we were too cautious and wasted time," Ms. Tikri said in an effort to make sure the concept was clear in her mind. "Or, if we throw caution to the wind, we **still **may not have a home to go back to because we destroyed the timeline and the future isn't **our **future."

"In a nutshell," Charlie rubbed his temples.

"Yes, that does about sum it up," J'Nal nodded.

All eyes turned to Catherine and she could feel her stomach clench. The future was slipping through her clenched fists like fine grains of sand. No matter what she did, no matter how she turned, no matter what decision she made, she and her team kept getting backed into a corner. All they could do was watch helplessly as the situation kept spinning ever more out of control.

It was almost as if the universe was forcing them right down this path—a path that would ultimately mean the destruction of everyone and everything that she loved.

Do nothing and hope for the best.

Do something and hope for the best.

She was the only one who could stand at this crossroads and make this decision.

"The Founders have mercy on my soul," she prayed.

"One of them has spoken," Charlie said quietly, "and last I checked he wasn't showing you any mercy at all."

TBC…


	31. Domino Effects

****

Part 31: Domino Effects

Faith slipped into the backyard with a pack of her beloved Camels in hand to escape the tense atmosphere. Xander, Willow, Giles, Buffy, **and **Robin were actually working together—a frightening sight in and of itself—to convince Catherine to let them look at her Watcher's diary from 2008, but the woman steadfastly refused to give it up.

While no one was yelling or waving arms, Faith suspected that everyone was a short step away from breaking things. 

She rounded the corner and stood under the kitchen window. One flick her lighter and she was drawing the smoke into her lungs with a relieved sigh. 

Then again, maybe the tension wasn't so much the atmosphere in the house as it was lack of nicotine she decided as she snuggled up to the tingling sensation of an oncoming head rush. Oh, yeah. Totally addicted. Can't even handle cutting back. A patch was definitely in her future.

The backdoor slammed open and Faith peeked around the corner. Xander looked like he was on a real warpath while a more subdued Catherine followed in his wake. The one and only time she'd ever seen Xander this angry was back in the Dale after he found out Angel had returned from the dead and Buffy had lied about it. 

__

Irresistible force? Meet brick wall, Faith thought as she sucked in more fumes. _This should be a fucking trip. Ain't no way Catherine's gonna cave, even if we're in the right about wanting to see that damn journal. Shit. Last I checked they came to **us **for help. We tried it their way. Now we should get a crack._

"Fine. Privacy. **Now **will you explain to me **why **you won't show us the diary?" Xander spat as he paced around the Watcher Honoria. "And why the **hell **can you only tell **me **before we break it to the others? I'm **not **the Watcher around here. That's Giles's thankless job."

That's when Faith noticed that Catherine was clutching the leather-bound book in her arms. The expression on her face telegraphed uncertainty and something that looked a hell of a lot like fear.

__

Well, well, well. Looks like she's gonna spill after all, Faith nodded to herself in satisfaction. _I wish I had me a bowl of popcorn._

"This journal…" Catherine cleared her throat and began again, "This journal has been in my family for generations. Since Tara, in fact. The Council Honoria has a facsimile as does the Slayer Archive Project and other organizations, but the original belongs to **my family** because our male Founder wrote it. Do you understand?"

"Look, I don't **care **who owns it. What I **care **about, check that, what **we **care about is the contents," Xander snapped. "We are **not **idiots. Did it **ever **occur to you that because the damn thing comes from only five years in **our **future that maybe, crazy thought I know, just **maybe **we'll be able to crack **why **your explanation isn't giving us enough information to find that damn arrow?"

Catherine cowered under the verbal assault and swallowed hard. "I know. Believe me I know. But see, the thing is…there might be…oh futch…I'm trying to put this nicely. There might be some information in here that you might not want to know."

Xander backed up a step while Faith watched through amused eyes. The quiet confession had stopped Xander's self-righteous rant cold. 

"See, the thing is…" Catherine let out a hard breath and closed her eyes. "You wrote it. The journal's yours."

Nothing registered on Xander's face. 

Catherine hunched and waited. 

Faith held her breath while her mind raced a circling track of _holy fuck_. Then the rest of Catherine's statement sunk in. Founder. She was ready to bet the thirty bucks she just collected from Willow that Founder equaled ancestor and just how whacked is **that**. She suspected something like this was up, but to actually hear it? Whole different thing.

Somewhere in Faith's mental holy fuck parade, Xander's whispered voice wound through her hearing.

"Who the hell are you?" 

How hilarious is that? Xander sounded like a terrified child as if the concept of being a father was the single worst thing he could think of happening to him. _Maybe not so hilarious,_ Faith mentally amended._ More like heartbreaking 'cause he's got the Joyce instincts down pat._

"What **is** your last name?" Xander's voice got stronger, a slight edge of anger creeping in.

Catherine squirmed under the glare, but came clean. "My last name's a little bit of a problem."

"How do you mean?" And damn, even though he **heard **her the first time, Faith could see Xander was going to make her spell it out in thirty-foot high letters. 

Like it was going to change anything.

"Do you want to know my last name?" she asked in a way that sounded vaguely like a threat.

"No. But you **are **going to tell me." Xander looked like he was preparing for a blow. "Because if I'm going in there with a plan, I need all the information. Spelled out. Using very small words." 

Catherine nodded. She'd come this far. She stepped up so that her nose was almost touching Xander's chin. _Bully for Xander,_ Faith thought. _He's not letting her intimidate him._

Catherine cast a furtive glance around, prompting Faith to zip out of sight. When the Slayer thought it was safe, she poked her head around the corner, cigarette burning forgotten in her hand, and watched Catherine in mid-whisper. The Watcher Honoria watched as Xander backed up a few steps until he landed against the building's brickwork, shock playing across his features while the information sunk in. 

At some point, rational thought made a return appearance and he sputtered. "You?"

"Unh-hunh."

"And…" he waved vaguely at himself.

"Which we've already established earlier in this conversation."

"And **Faith**?"

Catherine's yell of "Shhhh, not so loud," was enough to cover Faith's own yelp of surprise.

Xander blinked. "Hunh," was pretty much all he had to say.

__

"Hunh" my ass, Faith thought furiously. _This fucking news just rates as a "hunh" like I'm just some answer to a fucking trivia question? This is my goddamn **life** being messed with here._

"Evolutionarily speaking, this is a **good **thing," Catherine said dryly.

"Reputationally speaking, you might want to take the Harris part of your name, drag it out into the backyard, and shoot it. Although the Lanoire part sounds pretty," Xander said with stunned absent-mindedness. "Shoulda really dumped the Harris part. Breaks up the prettiness of Catherine Anastasia followed by the mess of a hyphenated name that involves Harris."

Faith felt some heat on her fingers, looked down, stifled a swear, and dropped the burning butt on the ground. Xander's cracking lame-o jokes because he can't fucking deal. _Right there with ya. Not dealing either,_ Faith silently agreed.

Strange that he thought **his **name was the reputation-killer. **She **was the one who was the murderer and spent time in the clink. 

"So?" Catherine prompted, worry etched on her features.

"We say nothing. About you. Me. And god knows I don't want a **peep** about Faith." Xander looked around the yard like he was trapped. "Just say the journal's mine and leave it at that."

"Which means that they're going to know I'm your direct descendant," Catherine pointed out.

****

"What?"

"Charlie told Giles that the journal," here Catherine gave it a gentle, reverent tap, "was from the Watcher who was one of my family's Founders."

"Crap."

"And if I let **you **read it, they're going to want to read it with you, which means they'll recognize your handwriting," Catherine added.

"Double crap."

"Which is why I had to tell you about me because you were going to find out anyway. From Giles. Which would've been probably worse," Catherine continued.

"Triple crap."

"And finally, what's a crap?"

"We keep Faith's name **out of this**," Xander insisted. 

"Yes…" Catherine began uncertainly. Faith could see her swallow "Harris-rah" ending.

He nodded to himself. "Probably got your wires crossed anyway. More likely our grandkids do the naked mambo that results in you because there's not a chance in hell…"

"Why do you say that?" Catherine's stance turned defensive.

Faith tensed and wondered just what Xander would say.

"I don't register with her," Xander said shortly, "and I'm not interested in going there."

"Is this because of Ahnyah?"

__

What? How the hell does she know about…wait…Xander was probably writing love letters to his dead ex in a journal somewhere. Then she realized what Xander said and for some bizarre reason felt a sting, partly because it was true, and partly because she knew the reason behind the statement.

"No. It's just…"

Faith held her breath.

"…she's okay and all, but she's got her own life to lead and I'm not really an in-the-picture guy. I'm the original commitmentphobe. I tend to cheat on my girlfriends. Or pledge my undying love seconds before I go running screaming into the night." Xander told the lie peppered with what Faith suspected was a little truth and a smooth shrug. "Faith's got a good thing going with Robin and he'll be there for the long haul. Me? Not so much. Wham-bam-thank-you-Xan. That's me."

Faith closed her eyes and kicked at the grass. Jesus, she didn't think she had honor to defend and here was Xander doing just that like she was some goddamn princess in a high tower. He was knifing himself to make him look less just so she could look better.

Bastard.

"But that's not true!" Catherine protested.

"Oh, but it very much is," Xander stubbornly replied.

Catherine hugged the journal to her chest, her expression screaming that she not only didn't believe it, she didn't **want **to believe it. "People change," she finally said. "Besides, I **know **what I…"

"Not this rambler. I'm telling you that you got it wrong." Xander insisted. He closed his eyes with a sigh. "Look. I gotta get back inside and think about how I'm gonna break the news to the others while keeping Faith out of it. Make sure you tell your people to keep their mouths shut and to go along." He looked up, his face registering something like heartbreak. "You okay?"

"Sure," Catherine shortly replied.

With a nod, Xander disappeared into the house.

Catherine looked like someone had just killed her dog. Christ. Faith just couldn't fucking stand it. "Pssst," she hissed.

Catherine looked around and saw Faith peeking at her from around the corner. The Watcher Honoria's 'oh shit' expression was priceless as she wildly looked between the backdoor and the Slayer.

"C'mere," Faith gestured.

Catherine slunk over to Faith's position and waited.

"Now I'm not going to give you the whole story because that's kinda Xander's story to tell. Plus, I'm not one hundred percent on the deal he had going with Anya," Faith began, "but he ain't exactly being entirely honest about being an asswipe…"

***

It took Xander almost an hour to calm down after his little tête-à-tête with Catherine. Most of it was spent pacing in his room telling himself that he really did **not **want to start breaking things because that was sure to bring a crowd of people wondering what the hell was wrong.

The worst thing was not the bouts of fury at the general fucked-upness that is the universe. No. The worst thing was how he felt in between said bouts. 

__

Remember how you felt lying there bleeding on the ground because you'd been stabbed in the gut thanks to your own stupidity and Buffy practically steps over your body to go check on Spike who was unfortunately still not dusty? Remember how you felt?

Yeah. This felt just like that. Times a hundred.

So he pinged helplessly between furious denial and depressed resignation as he tried to ignore the broken glass feeling in his gut. Eventually he forced himself to sit on the bed and tried to remember all the reasons why he **shouldn't **trust Catherine. The problem was that if he opened the journal and saw his own handwriting, every single justification for calling Catherine a dirty, rotten, stinkin' liar was going to be systematically blown up.

__

Calm down. **Think**.

Keeping Faith far and away from this nightmare was easy: don't tell **anyone**. Deny all knowledge of whom Catherine claims he had an attack of hormones with. Say it's no one anyone knows, not even him, because the name doesn't ring a bell. Better yet, don't bring up the involvement of any woman at all. Simple.

Unless said journal gave something away in one of its waaaay-too-many pages.

Crap. Crap. And just because it's worth repeating, crap.

__

Hooooold on. When I said we keep Faith out of it, Catherine didn't blink an eye so maybe, just maybe, there's nothing in there that pegs me and…

Nope. He can't even finish the thought. Because Faith and Him? Wrong. Wrong on so many levels. As in wrong on the same levels as Buffy-and-Spike wrong complete with a history of sexual assault and an attempt on his life. 

Okay, sure, she's changed. She's making an effort to do right. She's even making with the friendly, or trying to. The words 'boy toy' has not once escaped her lips in reference to himself, just Xander, Xan, or Cyclops. But still…

For anything to happen between them in the way Catherine's claiming? It would require intervention from every celluloid angel from _It's a Wonderful Life,_ to_ Highway to Heaven, Touched by an Angel,_ _Michael, _and a kick-ass Denzel Washington from _The Preacher's Wife_ to overcome this baggage_._ Since heaven is too busy laughing at Xander Harris, butt-monkey to the universe, he's pretty sure that's not going to happen.

He took a deep breath. Nothing for it. He'll tell Catherine to cough up the journal and give him a chance to read the damn thing in private so he can rip out any offending pages that might cause Faith-shaped problems.

And if Catherine didn't like the destruction of a major league historical document? Too. Fucking. Bad. Because if he wrote it, he's damn well got the right to set fire to the life-wrecking piece of leather-bound shit if he wants to.

***

Faith escorted a miserable Catherine to her room. 

She couldn't bear to look at the woman behind her as they made their silent passage through the house. The journal was jammed into her right pocket and her hand kept reflexively touching its cold, unforgiving surface.

This was too much too absorb. 

This truth Faith told her about why there could never, ever be a Harris-Lanoire line that goes right back to the original Harris and Lanoire flew right into the face of everything she knew. 

She's not sure who she's more angry at: Alexander for taking the blame entirely on himself, hiding Faith's crime against his person like it didn't even matter; or Faith for taking that blame entirely on herself, destroying every assumption she ever had about these two people in the process.

She **knew **beyond a shadow of a doubt that Faith and Alexander were wrong no matter what they said. She had journals, diaries, and information from contemporary sources that spelled out everything about their relationship. Hada, Catherine Anastasia was a familynamethat went back to the firstborn of these very two people. 

Much as she didn't know about the past, she did know this much: she was right. Her family kept a history so exacting and meticulous that her father could tell you whom his second cousin three times removed was and spell out exactly how that person was related.

This was about **family** and one thing the Harris-Lanoires and all the related Bloodlines had in common was this: family meant everything. Friends you decided were family meant everything. You treated family—blood and adopted—with respect and care because those people were the precious jewels in your crown. 

In short, as ignorant as she had been about some facts, this one fact **was **fact and she had archives full of proof. Spoken words from the sources' mouths before things happened the way they happened didn't change the oceans of ink and blood spilled in the centuries since. Yet for all that, she didn't have access to one drop of that ink and had only the blood in her veins if she wanted to show them the error of their ways.

Worse, she wasn't even sure she wanted to.

__

How did I get to this point? How? Catherine wondered miserably as she silently mounted the stairs. _And how come this story of Faith seducing and then trying to kill Alexander was never recorded **anywhere**? _

Or rather, how come it was never stated outright? 

You'd think someone less-than-friendly to the relationship might've brought it up somewhere. Robin, who expressed time and time again his strong reservations to Alexander's and Faith's involvement because he believed in the separate-but-equal missions of the Watchers and the Slayers, should've been bringing this incident up as a point to support his theories.

Assuming that Robin was as miserable a bastardo as she wanted to believe. Maybe he had his good and bad just like everyone else. 

Knowing what she now knew, she wondered if she'd see this horrible secret lurking in the subtext if she started nosing around the archives on the family estate. How much did she miss in the charming hesitation, the longing 'what ifs,' the stumbling steps forward and the occasional steps back? How much did **everyone **in the family miss for **centuries **about the first four years of Alexander's and Faith's working partnership because this one event—an event that very obviously deeply affected the two of them—was completely unknown?

If this were a fictional story, she'd think it bittersweet, making assumptions about the big romance that was sure to come before the end, rooting for that satisfactory conclusion where love conquers all, content in the knowledge that the road to forgiveness is paved with a single kiss. 

But this was real life, and all she could think was that the two of them needed to stay very, very far away from one another. She was fairly certain that if she were a friend to either or both, she'd be urging Alexander to get counseling for the trauma and telling Faith that she should stick with, Founders help her, Robin.

What does this say about her? She **still **wants to offer that advice even though she knows that this particular dance ends on a happy refrain.

Maybe. She just doesn't know any more. She may have murdered her entire family by deciding to act instead of wait. 

"We're here," Faith said softly in her left ear.

Catherine stopped and looked up at the door. Maybe it was her door. Maybe not. She really didn't care.

Faith shuffled uncomfortably behind her as Catherine closed her eyes. She didn't want to turn around and she didn't want to move forward. What she wanted to do was cry and she didn't have the luxury to do even that much.

A tentative touch on her elbow with the whispered sadness of a haunted ghost: "I don't know how to make this right."

Catherine's eyes popped open and she glared at the door. "What do you want from me?"

"Tell me how I can make this right?"

Faith sounded so uncertain as she asked the question, revealing a vulnerability that Catherine didn't think even existed in her, at least based on what she knew about history, legend, and what she'd seen with her own two eyes.

The Watcher Honoria slowly turned her head and found herself looking down into sad, brown eyes. "I don't know," Catherine admitted. "All of what you said is news to me so I just don't know."

Faith stepped back, not really looking at anything, right foot nervously hooking and crossing around her left ankle. "You know that shit they say about the truth setting you free? I'm thinking someone lied to me about that."

"What do you want from me?" Catherine repeated.

Faith's eyes narrowed as she looked at the door over Catherine's left shoulder. "I hate people telling me what to do. It's my fucking life, right? I'll do what the fuck I want, how I want, when I want. See. Want. Take. Have. Me in a fucking nutshell. I got the Slayer juice, so fuck you if you don't like it."

Catherine's jaw clenched and she felt the beginning of a serious dislike for this woman. "That attitude gets you locked up," she said lowly.

A right eyebrow quirked in response. "It did," the Slayer stated. 

Catherine gave her head a hard shake. In this time period, only a very select few even knew what a Slayer **was **so how… 

"Living like that? At some point you get yourself a dire choice: crash and burn, maybe take a few hundred innocent people with you when you do; or do something before the big explosion," Faith said. "So I turned myself over to the law, let them lock me up, and took a long, hard, fucking look."

Something in Catherine's gut eased off and the empty feeling was replaced by curiosity. "What did you find?"

Faith looked at Catherine then, studying the woman's expression like she couldn't quite believe that the question was serious rather than sarcastic. She took a breath and admitted, "It all comes down to me. I could blame my fuck-ups on a lot of things, but really, it's me. That's what I got to live with every fucking day of my life and **that's **the big hurdle to this huge future you think is there for me. **I **know the truth of me and you're putting one big-ass tall order on my head. Don't know if I can do it, and I honestly don't think I can."

Catherine leaned back against the door, looking at this woman, **really** looking at her, desperately wishing she could borrow Alexander's eyes—well, eye—to see this through something other than 20-20 hindsight. "So that's it? You're going to give up?" she asked.

"No." Faith's voice sounded unsure, distant, like she couldn't quite believe she was having this conversation. 

"Then what?"

"Like I said, always hated to be told what to do. Fucking **hated **it. 'Cept I think I need advice. How do I make this right?"

"Maybe you shouldn't."

  
Faith looked at Catherine like she may have sprouted an extra head, turned green, and began giving her directions to Subbins on Alpha Tau, home of the world's largest lyranic patty. "You've **got** to be kidding me. Right?" the Slayer asked with more than a little disbelief.

"The truth is always better, no matter how much people don't want to hear it," Catherine said, even as her heart and mind roundly sent up a chorus of disagreement. "Trust me, I'm not happy about this, but I'll live. See?" She gave a mock bow. "Still standing."

Faith cringed. "Shit. I didn't even **think**…fuck, fuck, fuck…what I meant was," she took a breath, "is there anything in your history books in the bad ol' future that mentions **how **I managed to make it right with Xander? Because where I'm standing right now? It's just not possible."

Catherine stood stunned. "Let me see if I get this straight: you **haven't **even addressed this with Alexander yet? How many standard years ago did you say this happened again?"

"**Now **you see the problem." Faith closed her eyes and shook her head; looking so lost and defeated that Catherine wondered if issue weighed even more heavily on the perpetrator than on the victim.

On an instinct she couldn't name, Catherine stepped forward, gathered the girl into a tight hug, and, despite the telltale stiffening of Faith's body at the unexpected contact, gave her a kiss on the forehead. She loosened her hold, but didn't let go.

Faith shifted back and looked up into Catherine's face. Her expression a mess of confusions, but she didn't quite break free, as if she were loath to lose this simple human contact. She only asked one thing: "Why?"

Catherine found herself toying with a strand of the young woman's hair feeling strangely better—not great, not good, but better and gave Faith the only answer she could. "Because you need it and because I can."

TBC…


	32. Roadmaps in Black and White

****

Part 32: Roadmaps in Black and White

When Xander entered their guests' assigned quarters, it was very obvious he'd walked in on the middle of a very intense conversation. All five members of the Future Set were in a football huddle, and five pairs of eyes were fixed to the door.

Jesus. This was so close to high school when he'd walk by pre-closet gropage Cordelia and her Cordettes that he was getting flashbacks. All he needed was someone to give him that famous Snyder sneer and the déjà vu would be complete. 

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, mostly because he knew shoving his hands in his pockets the way he wanted to would only give away the fact he was nervous. "It's no secret that we have a problem," he stated.

Catherine watched him with haunted dark eyes while the other four occupants turned to look at her.

"First, no mention of Faith. Not to **anyone**. I even hear a whisper, peep, or slip, there will be hell to pay and I'm telling you right now, I **won't **be the one paying it." Xander placed as much emphasis on the threat as he could, hoping against hope that these trained killers wouldn't see that it was decidedly empty. 

"But what about…" Charlie began.

"I said said nothing and I **meant **it," Xander cut him off. "According to Catherine, I've got no choice but to admit that me and her are related. It goes no further than me, understood?"

"Agreed," Catherine quickly answered. She gave Charlie an unreadable look. "As far as we're concerned, you're the only one who knows the whole story about me. How and who you choose to share it with is not up to us."

A round of reluctant nods accompanied Catherine's agreement and he could feel his spine slightly relax. "First thing's first. Before I go marching down there to pass out the cigars, I need to take a look at that journal."

"But…" Catherine began.

"Not negotiable," Xander cut her off. 

"The timeline," J'Nal squeaked.

"The timeline is fucked," Xander growled. "Accept it. Mourn. Move on."

The five of them quailed under the weight of the dropped octave in Xander's voice.

"You know it's a sign of yet another apocalypse when I have to be the logic guy around here, but Catherine voted me into the your little clubhouse the second she came clean about her relatives," Xander continued, clenching his hands behind his back. "She told me because she knows that if this little venture of yours is going anywhere, someone **has **to read the damn journal. Savvy?"

"Sa-vie?" Ruda tasted the word uncertainly.

"Do. You. Understand." Xander bit on each word. 

"Wow. He's definitely got the family temper," Charlie remarked in a clear attempt to diffuse the situation.

Xander closed his eyes and took a brutal breath through his nose, forcing his jaw to relax. "Sorry. I don't mean …"

"If it helps, I don't blame you," Charlie said sympathetically. When everyone in his group looked at him, he added, "Oh like none of you have never been spirit-read by a Gypslin and heard infor you didn't want to know."

"My family knows better," Catherine said firmly as she rolled her eyes.

"If these Gypsum guys are anything like Gypsies, preach it sister," Xander agreed. "'Cept, I've got something a little more complicated than a crystal ball on my hands. Since none of you have asked me to cross your palm with silver, my theories that you guys are running a big con? Beginning to look like a whole lot of wishful thinking."

"You thought we were lying?" Ruda sounded crushed.

"Can you blame him?" Catherine said gently. "We'd think the same thing."

"So then why go along…" Ms. Tikri began.

"Because there was, I mean is, the chance you're telling the truth," Xander answered.

"Or, barring that, you'd at least get some mystical objects out of it," Catherine nodded. Xander was surprised to notice she actually seemed, well, not pleased, but definitely on the approval train.

"That, too," he admitted. "Which leads to this: I need to see the journal first before we go down there so I can try to avoid problems we don't need." He held out a waiting hand and tried to control the slight tremor in his fingers as he felt every muscle in his chest tighten. 

Catherine stood, the journal clenched tightly in her right hand. She didn't look at him as she stepped forward and held it out. They stood like that a few moments and Xander wondered if the two of them looked like bookends to the others. He took a deep breath, and grasped the book. That was Catherine's signal to let go and she stepped back, her face turned away. Xander could almost imagine she was fighting to keep her expression neutral.

Hell, it's what he'd do in her place.

__

Maybe we're not so different, Xander thought as he looked down at the journal, feeling the cool leather through his calloused fingertips. He wanted to apologize, although he wasn't sure what he'd be apologizing for. Was it because he'd been the one to finally force the issue with his temper tantrum? Or was it because Catherine got stuck with Harris genes? Either way, he was pretty sure Catherine wouldn't take an apology at all well.

Time seemed to slow down as his left hand opened the cover.

He really wasn't surprised that the journal opened somewhere in the middle. He quickly scanned the facing page and fought a hard swallow. He spotted the word 'Moscow' and shut the book with an indrawn breath.

"Been obsessively reading this entry, hunh?" he asked. He was surprised that his voice sounded normal, almost bored.

"You might say that," Catherine admitted.

J'Nal's face was scrunched, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "Do it again," he said.

Xander blinked rapidly as he refocused on the witch. "Do what?"

"Open the journal." J'Nal's wondering eyes were fixed not on Xander's face, but on the book in his hands.

The small hairs on the back of Xander's neck prickled a warning that something seriously weird was going down. "Why?"

"I think…" J'Nal shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what was about to say. "I'm not right. I can't be."

Xander studied the witch for a few moments and, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark-skinned man, he grasped the edge of the cover and lifted. 

J'Nal's eyes widened as he cocked his head to the right. "What entry did it open to?" he asked with a dawning sense of wonder.

Xander looked down. "Hunh. Looks like the same page."

"Flip through the pages." The witch sounded like he was fighting excitement.

Xander looked blindly down and did as he was told. He was able to move through four pages before he hit a dead end. "That's weird," he muttered. It was almost as if the pages after the entry had been glued together, forming a single block that refused to budge. Not only would the pages not separate, but also the single mass remained locked to the back cover. Xander then tried flipping through the front part of the journal. No dice. The front pages were as tightly locked as the back pages. The effect was like having two leather-bound blocks of cheap wood encasing four flimsy pieces of paper.

"Son of a…" Xander began.

"Unbelievable," J'Nal breathed.

"What? What's going on?" Catherine asked.

"The journal's been magically locked," J'Nal said. "He can't see anything but the pages he needs to see."

Catherine's eyes widened. "What? How? **When?**"

"You don't know?" Ruda asked.

"How would **I **know?" Catherine's mind was reeling. "J'Nal, can you get a sense…"

"No," J'Nal quickly answered. "I can't place the aural signature at all. It's definitely not Prima magics, of that I'm absolutely certain. But as to what kind of magics it is? I honestly couldn't tell you."

"We're saved!" Charlie cheered. When everyone looked at the doctor in disbelief, he added, "Probably not, but it was a nice fantasy while it lasted."

Xander closed the journal, tapping it thoughtfully in his left palm. "I wonder…just because I can't, doesn't mean someone else can't."

"You're not actually saying it's keyed only to you, do you?" Ms. Tikri asked with her eyes narrowed in thought.

"Hello! My best friend the witch makes with the funky wunky on a pretty regular basis," Xander reminded them. "She may be good at bibbidi-bobbiding now, but I remember more than a few spells that went really wrong because she or someone else didn't think through all the angles. **Believe **me, I still have the psychological scars to prove it. And that's with a witch I **know**. I don't even want to **think **about a witch that I **don't **know. Plus, your guy with the in with Hecatate has no clue about what's going on, so this revelation isn't exactly putting me in a comfort zone."

"Bib'ity bobi'ting? J'Nal asked.

"He has a point," Charlie said.

"Right," Catherine nodded as she held her hand out. "Journal please. Let's see if someone can read over our shoulders."

Xander handed it back, grateful to get the disturbing weight off his hands. 

"Leave the room," Catherine ordered.

"Why?" Xander asked.

"I want to see if this is locked down just because you touched it and the best way to figure that out is if you're not here," the Watcher Honoria pointed out.

__

Can't argue with that, Xander thought as he nodded and left. He was only in the hall for only a few seconds, grinning uncomfortably at Andrea and Susan as they stood guard outside the guests' room, when he heard Catherine's intense voice call out.

"Come in!"

Xander opened the door and he was able to see the fanned pages literally snap together. He was pretty sure he only imagined the cartoon-sounding crack that accompanied this.

"I'll be," Charlie said with a grin.

"Looks like the threat of your presence in the same room is enough to trigger the spell," J'Nal announced.

"I'm not so much worried about me getting a peek at something I shouldn't. I'm more worried about someone who's not me being able to read it," Xander said with a frown.

"Again, you seem to think this spell is keyed to just you. Why?" Ms. Tikri insisted.

"Okay, think about this. Originally, you guys only had to deal with me and Faith, right?"

Five heads nodded.

"So, maybe the spell is keyed to me **and **Faith because, hey, we're the only ones who would've had a chance of seeing this entry," Xander said.

"Oh, hada," Charlie slumped, "which means that anyone else might…"

"…be able to read it," Catherine finished for him.

"You're all assuming an awful lot," Ms. Tikri pointed out. "No one knows when this spell was cast."

"She's right," Catherine agreed. "We know it works with your presence, but we don't know anything else."

"We're going to have to test it," Xander warned.

"Why? We can refuse to show them," Ruda said as she crossed her arms in a posture that showed no one was going to get past her if she didn't want them to. "Eyes only. That's what I say."

"Giles will insist. Robin definitely will. Willow probably will ask, but if you shove back hard enough she might not push the issue," Xander said. "Everyone else will probably just go along with whoever wins the argument. Honestly, I can't blame anyone for wanting to take a look, if only because of the cat-murdering curiosity factor. This is pretty heavy stuff. In Robin's or Giles's shoes I'd probably do the same thing."

"We still don't know who placed the spell on this book," J'Nal said. 

Xander felt the prickle on the back of his neck again. "Is that good or bad?"

"In one way, it's good. Means that it won't be a simple matter of breaking the spell since we don't know who cast it or what form of magic was used. In one way, it's bad because, as you pointed out, we're not able to predict how the spell will act and react to different people or a change in environment," J'Nal explained.

"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," Xander muttered. He took a deep breath. "Well, if we're going to do this, let's do it right. Let me see the entry and read it over before we go down there."

Catherine handed the journal back to him and Xander was surprised that he felt a lot less dread about reading its contents. If the spell held up for people not him a lot of potential problems would simply cease to exist. At the very least that deserved a small 'yay' from team Harris.

He sat on the edge of the bed and tried desperately to ignore the expectant gazes of the room's occupants burning a hole through his forehead. He took a deep breath, opened the journal, and began to read.

***

From the Journal of Alexander Harris, September 20, 2008, Moscow, Russian Federation:

…could be worse, at least we're in the capital. However, that's all in how you look at it. Moscow is full of the noveau riche with bling-bling cars and bling-bling jewelry. More than few people around here have suspicious lumps under their suit jackets and you can smell the ink drying on our rubles. I'm not sure if that inky-fresh smell is because the government had just printed it or because the counterfeiters are going for broke.

__

Faith's a wreck. Every time she turns a corner, her Slayer sense goes off the charts. Shouldn't be all that much of a surprise. All these people going for the go-go lifestyle? You know that there's something in the crowd that's not exactly human just waiting to thin the herd. Much as Faith wants to give the old Slaying game a try in a whole new country, she's really trying hard to keep a low profile because this retrieval mission gives both of us a bad feeling. Although that could be the food we had in the hard currency restaurant last night.

__

I vote we hit McDonald's in Red Square before again braving the uniqueness that is the Russian dining experience.

__

We're stuck in low-profile mode, so all the Slayer senses going haywire have to be ignored. Short of us tripping over a fangface, we're keeping the stakes packed and hidden. It's bad enough that we look like tourists because we don't dress flashy enough, but flashing a stake in this crowd? We'll be gunned down faster than you can say 'Bonnie and Clyde.' 

__

Our summer school-inspired dip into Russian speaking and Cyrillic reading is less than no help. My Russian's pretty good, except I have no idea what I'm saying half the time—you truly haven't lived until you ask someone if you can order the toilet for dinner in the Russian equivalent of a tourist information booth with a flawless accent. Faith can puzzle out what people are saying, but sounds like she's coughing up a fur ball whenever she tries something more complicated than Da! or Nyet!

__

As for Cyrillic? I knew that was going to be a disaster before we got our passports. Best not go into it here.

__

Somewhere in this example of capitalism gone really wrong is a Slayer. Devon is usually pretty good at narrowing it down to one person, getting a name, and sometimes an exact street address. Slow as the process is, you can't beat them on accuracy. 

__

Until now. 

__

This time we've got two candidates and Devon isn't sure which one is which. Wills says Lady Haversham believes that someone has cast a misdirection spell on the actual Slayer to throw anyone looking for her off the scent. It's unclear whether the real Slayer is being masked because some local witch is trying to hide the girl from evil eyes or to hide the girl from us. This could be an attempt to protect her from threats—and I can see how we'd be seen as a threat—or hide her so she can do damage.

__

Surprise, surprise, Faith figures some mastermind is using the Slayer as an enforcer. Back in Cleveland I thought she was being paranoid or projecting. Looking around now that I'm here? Faith is probably right.

__

It doesn't help that there's a good chance our two candidates might have mafiya connections. The father of our first candidate is a low-level bureaucrat for the 

__

Hate to interrupt myself like that in the middle of a sentence, but information about the Slayer candidates have to wait. A team of five people approached us, claiming they were from more than 800 years in the future. As follows:

__

A woman who claims to be a Watcher is in charge. Roughly 5'11", long dark hair, keeps it tied back, brown eyes. Claims she is from Providence, but from a new version. Her Slayer looks Indian as in from India, long dark hair, 4'10", eyes almost black, older than she looks, is not clear on her age because of "calendar issues," name sounds like Roo-dah. The two have been paired for two years.

__

Also on the team: a man who is a prime witch, whatever that is, with something that sounds like a British accent, African decent, white hair, hazel eyes; and a doctor, Caucasian, red hair, blue eyes, with the friendly name of Charlie. They've been on the team for 19 months. They brought a reporter with a name like Tiki along with them and her hair is so blonde you'd think it was white in the right light.

__

They tell us about a Great Darkness that is taking over their planets. The facts as I remember them: 

__

It comes from nowhere and disappears to nowhere. It leaves no traces or signatures, magical, energy, or otherwise. Most of the population simply dies. Those who survive the initial attack are enslaved as mindless minions. The way it was explained, it's like watching a steamroller slowly sneaking up on you while you've got no chance to escape.

__

The only thing that can save them is the Grail. This Grail is only located in the city where they find Faith and I. 

__

As it so happens, we have the screaming yellow Arrow that points the way to the Grail. The Arrow is of Cleveland origin. 

__

The way it pointed lead us thus:

__

We had to start near a stadium that was Brown. We traveled West until we hit the Lakeside. Oddly enough, this landed us in Canada, but we kept going until we felt Superior. That done, we turned East on the first Street until we came to an Erie Cemetery. We found the entrance to the underground caverns by the grace of Angel Vaslik's wing. As the caverns were damp, Summer was the only thing that could only warm us, so we followed the path that would take us there. The maze took us right to it.

__

Be warned: 

__

The ground rises to protect the entrance. Teamwork that splits the team is the only thing that can keep the entrance free.

__

The Grail has a reptile Guardian. It can be lured away, using teamwork that shatters the team, but ultimately must be killed by one of the splinters lodging in the roof of its mouth.

__

Popular theory is that this stupid snake hates walnuts, but I think someone's having fun at my expense.

__

The Grail is alone, practically standing in a spotlight that tells visitors that it belongs only to them. The writings on the edge indicate that it is a focus for powerful protective magic, but it's not in a language any contemporary can translate. The message in the base is one that everyonecan translate, regardless of origin. 

__

The Grail is useless to us. It's not for us and we can't use it. So we gave it to the time travelers and they left. 

__

It seems the circuits were connected and completed, just not how I expected. No one can figure out if there were repercussions from their visit or if the visit was the repercussion. 

__

Faith and I figured we needed to contact Devon and try to shake loose more information about our mysterious Slayer… 

***

Xander flipped through the few pages he was allowed to see. This was **him**, a future him, complete with bad handwriting, although the handwriting on most of the pages detailing Catherine and company's visit to Moscow were better than his current scrawl. Obviously his writing skills had improved along the way since there were no flagrant misspellings or tortured grammar. 

In fact, as sparse as the language was, the details were picture perfect. Xander frowned. It was almost as if future him had **expected **someone else to go over this entry with a fine-tooth comb. _Well, it makes sense, right? Because if Catherine told the other Xander how they wound up in Moscow, he'd probably know he needed to spell things out good enough for this entry to be found and not so good to set off alarms anywhere._

Still, this entry bothered him. He sounded more Vorlon than a Vorlon, if that was at all possible. There was something so very, very off about it. He just wished…_No wishing! _

"Can you make any sense of it?" Charlie pushed.

"Wait, let me read," Xander mumbled. "There's something…I don't know…" He bowed his head and silently read and reread the entry. Was it him, or was the arrow thrown in there like an afterthought? No wonder Charlie almost forgot about it when he was talking to Giles.

__

This doesn't even **sound** like me, Xander thought. _This is, without a doubt, the most boring entry I've ever read in a Watcher's journal and that's saying something._

"He described you guys to a T," Xander muttered. He looked at Catherine. "How many of the Slayer teams in your time match this description?"

Catherine shrugged uncomfortably. "No one. I mean, there are teams where you could find a correlation between the physical description and a real person, but you couldn't find all of them on the same team. The 'two years' clinched it for us."

"I thought **I **was in there," Ms. Tikri protested.

"**I **thought you didn't want to get involved," Charlie mildly commented.

Xander looked down and scanned the text. "Yup. In here, too." He grinned. "Fits you perfectly."

"Tell me," Ms. Tikri ordered.

"Can't. Future me tells me not to since he's afraid that might bias your story to the positive," Xander said innocently. He put a hand to his mouth with fake horror. "Ooops. I wasn't supposed to say that."

"He does?" Charlie asked. "I don't remember anyth-- **oooof…"**

Ruda smiled sweetly. "My elbow slipped."

"Can you make sense of the rest of it?" Catherine pushed.

"Let me think about it because I'm over my whelmed limit," Xander said, feeling his gut clench. "Right now, we've got an even bigger problem."

"We do?" Charlie asked, voice climbing the scale. "We may have destroyed everything for nothing and we have **bigger **problems?"

Xander gave the doctor a worried look. "Okay, point taken. **I've** got a bigger problem. Not so much you."

"And what problem is that?" Ruda asked.

"Now we gotta break the news about who wrote this thing to the others," Xander said, "and I've got an unreasonable fear that Giles and Robin are going to whip out the red pens, start criticizing my writing style, and then give me a big old 'F.'"

TBC…


	33. Spotlight on Robin

****

Part 33: Spotlight on Robin Wood

__

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Robin Wood-rah**, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

****

Robin Wood's cool exterior does not betray the fierce intellect of his mind. He is a man who firmly believes in the mission of protecting humanity against all threats, of saving lives whenever and wherever possible, of holding back the forces of darkness that would destroy all he holds dear.

There is no doubt about his dedication and his overwhelming desire to provide Slayers with the right training, the right education, and the right tools that would allow them to perform at the top of their game and live lives that are as long as possible.

Even at this early date, one can see why the Council Educationary view him as their Founding Light and why his philosophies still carry much weight in many circles. His ideas are clearly thought out, well articulated, and carry the force that only a true believer can achieve.

Unlike his colleague, **Alexander Harris-rah, **_he does not bear the -sen title. The Faithists have repeatedly rejected his philosophies through the centuries and have remained tightly allied with the Council Honoria, which itself sees **Harris-rah** as its Founding Light. The Buffistas, who are more closely allied with the Council Educationary, only grant the -sen title to Slayers who die in the line of duty. The Unitans, who have no particular preference for either Council, generally follow the lead of one or both sister sects._

This lack of the title does not make **Wood-rah** any less impressive. He is a man who is accomplished and confident, at ease with the role he plays as one of the first in a new generation of Watchers in the post-Sun'dayl world.

It will come as no shock that, unlike **Buffy Summers-rah** and **Faith Lanoire-rah**, tension exists between **Wood-rah **and **Harris-rah**. They both hold very strong views on the respective roles of Slayers and Watchers and have very different ideas of how to best support Slayers in fighting the good fight. They seem to agree on very little in fact, and both stubbornly hold fast to their beliefs. One is left wondering how these two men managed to work together at all while they both lived. 

Yes, even at this early date the seeds of the differing philosophies that split the Taran United Watcher's Council apart after **Wise Rupert Giles-rah's **death from natural causes 2039, followed shortly by **Wood-rah's** death defending the Council's Cleveland headquarters from attack in 2043, and **Harris-rah's **death in Tibet while obtaining a cure for the Mystical Rayne Plague of 2046, can clearly be seen. The triple blow landed on the United Council within the span of seven years forced tensions between the differing factions to bubble to the surface. Lead Slayer **Rona Goodkind-Alvarez** was able to hold the bickering groups together, even after she retired, until her death in 2083. 

Once the last of the Sun'dayl generation was gone, the competing tensions in the United Council finally exploded, leading to the Great Schism of 2092 and the beginnings of the Councils Honoria and Educationary that we know today.

This labyrinthine history has not yet come to pass, but the path has already been set and the actors are already standing on their marks as we paint a portrait of a man taking his first steps on the road to greatness in this exclusive interview with **UNS.**

UNS: I'm thrilled we finally got a chance to talk Robin.

****

RW: I'm surprised that you wanted to interview me.

****

UNS: Not at all, not at all. Please, don't feel like that. I want to talk to as many people as possible because this is the chance to set the record straight on so many things. 

****

RW: [amused] A reporter interested in only the truth? You definitely aren't from earth.

****

UNS: {laughter} 

****

RW: So what do you want to know?

****

UNS: It appears to me that you're the man in charge around here.

****

RW: Does that take you by surprise?

****

UNS: Why no, not at all. Records of your exemplary work here in Cleveland paint a very detailed picture of you as a leader and a thinker with some very clear philosophies about the respective roles Slayers and Watchers play in the mission to protect and serve.

****

RW: Funny you should mention that. It's something I've been thinking a lot about.

****

UNS: Yes. I havenoticed the, shall we say, ad hoc atmosphere among your colleagues. It's a wonder anything gets done around here. 

****

RW: It's not **that **bad. People are still recovering from Sunnydale, trying to get their lives in order, figuring out what they want to do, things like that. What we do is a calling and not everyone is comfortable with the discipline and dedication required to serve that calling. But we **are **starting down the right path now that Giles has decided to formalize a new Council membership.

****

UNS: [surprised] Really? I was completely unaware.I was under the impression from Alexander that Giles was the only Watcher and that there wasn't a new Council in place.

****

RW: I'm not surprised that he didn't know. Nothing against Xander mind, but he **has **been very, very busy trying to untangle the knot your visit caused, so I doubt he's heard anything at all. [leans forward and lowers voice] Truth to tell, Giles only spoke to me yesterday about becoming a Watcher.

****

UNS: How do you feel about that?

****

RW: [leans back and looks thoughtful] I'm honored. The Watcher's Council has a proud history and its loss was very much a blow. I understand that there are some scattered survivors even in England, but Giles is working hard to weed out the undesirable element.

****

UNS: 'Undesirable element?'

****

RW: [winces] It's no secret that some of the Watchers had a proprietary view of Slayers. To them, these women were just mystical weapons, not flesh and blood. Watchers who thought otherwise tended to not get far in the old organization.

****

UNS: I can't imagine anyone holding that view.

****

RW: That's because the paradigm changed in Sunnydale. When there was just One, you basically had a case of One against the many, a many that was responsible for training, educating, and providing research support for this extraordinary girl thrust into a singular role. Now we have a case of Many.

****

UNS: But only one Watcher. Sorry. I meant two Watchers.

****

RW: What I'm trying to say is that in numbers there is power. Now that there's more than the One or Two, Slayers can now get a seat at the table and have a true voice. I highly doubt that Slayers will ever be viewed as merely weapons again.

****

UNS: So you're saying some of the survivors of the original Council might be unable to adapt to this new paradigm.

****

RW: Exactly.

****

UNS: You made reference to the fact that you're thinking about the respective roles that Watchers and Slayers play in protecting humanity from the darkness, no doubt brought on Giles's offer. Care to share your thoughts on that?

****

RW: The simple fact is this: the Slayer or Slayers, if you will, stand on the frontlines. They are one of the most important, if not **the **most important piece on the chessboard. Think of them as the Queen, the Knight, and the Rook all rolled into one. They are responsible for protecting the King, in this case all of humanity. They are also responsible for leading the Pawns, which are the assorted people like witches or normal men and woman who choose to take up the sword to fight the good fight, into battle. The Watchers, of course, are the Bishops. They train and educate the Slayer who is still learning her own power, offering advice when called upon to give it, and in very rare instances, running interference against those things that might distract the Slayer from her sacred mission. 

****

UNS: [checks MemePad for Council Educationary mission statement] What you're saying about Slayers. That's an awful lot to ask of one person.

****

RW: No, that's simply reality. My mother.

****

UNS: Nikki Wood.

****

RW: [surprised] You know about her?

****

UNS: [smiles knowingly] Like I said, I was desperately hoping to interview you, so I made sure to read up everything I could about you. [holds up MemePad] It has limited memory and limited files on the major players of this time period, but since we were planning to be in Moscow 2008 your complete Bio was recorded in here because I wanted to ask Alexander some questions about the differences in your philosophies for Watcher-Slayer interactions.

****

RW: [rolls eyes and shakes head in amusement] Now **that **I'd like to hear.

****

UNS: But I get to ask you directly instead. A much better arrangement, don't you think?

****

RW: {laughter} Oh, yeah. 

****

UNS: Back to your mother. You were saying.

****

RW: Yes. My mother taught me the importance of 'the mission.'

****

UNS: The mission?

****

RW: The mission. The mission to save lives, to fight evil, to be willing to lay down your life to fight the good fight. The mission comes before everything else: before personal comfort, before family, before your own wants and desires. You have to be willing to put that aside and remain focused on doing what is right. It's a hard, difficult path, but it's one that must be followed to its bitter end. Because if the Slayer can't do it, who can? Who else is strong enough to bear such a heavy burden? There isn't anyone. Not really. That's why the Slayer or Slayers are so important. That's why they are the central figures in fighting anything that would threaten humanity.

****

UNS: [leans forward, frowns at MemePad, and re-reads **RW's** statement] No offense but, isn't this the same groupthink you accuse the original Council of holding?

****

RW: Fair enough question, but the answer is that it's not the same thing at all. The old Council viewed the Slayer as a tool, nothing more. In their view, she was a slave to her calling and her destiny. What I'm saying is completely different. What I'm saying is that the Slayer is the leader. She is the one who must make the final decision and act on that decision. It's the difference between being a hammer and being the carpenter who wields the hammer.

****

UNS: How does this jibe with the role you see for Watchers?

****

RW: To be blunt, my thoughts are still evolving on this so bear with me. Once I thought this sense of 'the mission' was an inbred thing with Slayers, something they instinctively knew when they came into their power. However, after Sunnydale, I see that is not necessarily the case. As you can see, many of the Slayers in our house are still just young girls who really don't understand what being a Slayer means, let alone how to responsibly use their abilities and wield their power. They need to be trained and taught, not just how to properly use a weapon, but what their gifts actually mean and how they fit into the grand scheme of things.

****

UNS: And it's the Watcher's job to do that.

****

RW: Precisely. The way I see it, the Watcher's authority lies in a completely different sphere from the Slayer's authority. When a Slayer is still young and newly into her power, the Watcher's authority is paramount as a teacher. Once a Slayer fully understands the role she plays and the ethical implications of that, then the Slayer should be paramount and the Watcher should step back and let her lead as she is meant to.

****

UNS: [looks down, plays with stylus] Sounds cold. There's no room there for any personal relationship between the Slayer and her Watcher.

****

RW: 'Personal relationship?'

****

UNS: [continues playing with stylus] For example, developing a mutual, supportive relationship such as the one that exists between a student and her teacher, or even a caring relationship such as the one that exists between friends and colleagues. Or, to look at an extreme example, an intimate relationship like the one you have with Faith. None of these fit in with the philosophy you've laid out about the respective roles Slayers and Watchers play. You're talking in terms of authority, who has it, and when they have it. There doesn't seem to be room for the give-and-take. 

****

RW: [tenses] Faith is not a student and she's fully cognizant of her abilities and the role she plays as a Slayer. So I really don't see.

****

UNS: [leans back and looks confused] Please forgive me. I seem to be having some problems with my translation implant. [taps metal disc distractedly] It's just, I must admit, sometimes I have a difficult time following what everyone here is saying. There are some words that just don't translate very well into Colonial Common.

****

RW: [relaxes] That's all right. Take your time and find the right words.

****

UNS: [makes a thoughtful face] Let's backtrack. The path you lay out for Slayers is a very lonely one.

****

RW: The Slayer ultimately stands alone. She has to. As I said, she's the one who must make the final decision and must execute that decision. I saw it in the example of my mother and I've seen it in how Buffy conducted herself in Sunnydale, despite the fact that almost all of us tried to trip her up at some point or another with our personal concerns.

****

UNS: [crooked smile] I suspect there are some people in this very house who would vehemently disagree with you.

****

RW: [grins] You can make book on that. I'm 100 percent certain that, despite their years fighting by Buffy's side, both Xander and Willow would have serious issues with it. However, I honestly don't think they've faced reality on that point. 

****

UNS: So you say they're wrong to think the way they do.

****

RW: [puffs out cheeks and looks thoughtful] Misguided is a better word. We've never discussed the issue formally understand, but I like to believe that I have a pretty good feel for Xander's views. Given how close Xander and Willow are, it's a fairly good bet that Willow agrees with him, although I've never heard her say so one way or the other.

****

UNS: And where does Alexander stand?

****

RW: To be honest, I don't always understand where Xander is coming from and how he thinks is an utter mystery to me most days, but I **can **tell you that he has a very strong protective instinct, **very **strong. I think that instinct blinds him to the fact that the Slayers are the ones who do the protecting and that they need to learn to stand on their own as quickly as possible. 

****

UNS: But wouldn't that make him the ideal Watcher, at least for nurturing and training young Slayers who are still uncertain?

****

RW: If he were willing to limit himself to that, but I definitely get the impression that he believes a Slayer cannot truly succeed without a support network behind her. He is very enamored of the team Ruda has at her disposal and the specialized role each member plays in that team.

****

UNS: [chuckles] That's the Council Honoria for you. [good naturedly throws hands in the air] What can you do? 

****

RW: [grins] I assume this other Council that Giles mentioned to me, the Council Educator? Disagrees.

****

UNS: [leans forward and lowers her voice] Educationary. Oh, hada, yes. I do believe they'll be thrilled to know that someone in this house actually agrees with their own stance on the role Slayers and Watchers play. [taps nose] Don't tell anyone I said anything, eh?

****

RW: Ahhhh, yes. This Temporal Prime Directive Andrew keeps telling everyone to remember. Don't worry, secret's safe with me.

****

UNS: [leans back] Thank you. Now, I have to play devil's advocate here: Buffy Summers did, in fact, have a support network in her early years as a Slayer from what I understand from my other interviews. It would seem to me that such a network helped keep her alive, which is a point in Alexander's favor, no?

****

RW: Ahhhh, but my mother lived to older than Buffy is now, and she **didn't** have such a support network.

****

UNS: Good point.

****

RW: And I do still have to point out that while fighting the First Evil in Sunnydale, Buffy did come to her own conclusions about the place the Slayer holds as the leader and decision-maker. 

****

UNS: But the Great Awakening spell would argue against Buffy completely buying into 'the Slayer stands alone.'

****

RW: [shrugs] Honestly, you'd have to ask her about that. I can tell you that when she explained the whys and wherefores behind-the Great Awakening spell? A good term for it-empowering all Potentials, she spoke about changing the status quo, of giving Slayers, all Slayers, more than just the power to fight, but the power to decide their own future. To do that, as I said, you need numbers. It's very hard for a single Slayer, or even just two Slayers, to do.

****

UNS: Which brings us back to the role you see for Watchers as teachers, advice-givers, and consciences. 

****

RW: [raises eyebrow] I'm pretty sure I didn't say consciences.

****

UNS: [scrolls back notes] You said, and I quote, "The Watchers, of course, are the Bishops. They train and educate the Slayer who is still learning her own power, offering advice when called upon to give it, and in very rare instances, running interference against those things that might distract the Slayer from her sacred mission."

****

RW: [thinks about it] I suppose you're right. Conscience is a better word. That'll teach me to cross swords with someone who writes for a living.

****

UNS: [smiles] And don't you forget it.

****

RW: {laughter}

****

UNS: Which leads me back to my earlier question: You see Watchers and Slayers having two distinct and equally important roles, but that those roles are separate. Aren't you afraid, for example that a personal, intimate relationship such as the one you have with Faith might interfere with that role?

****

RW: [silence for a few moments] I think I see where you're going, but maybe a little more clarification so I'm absolutely sure about the question.

****

UNS: Hmmmm. [taps stylus on chin thoughtfully] Let's remove from the equation the younger Slayers who are still being educated since they are young and underage. I think we can both agree that an intimate relationship in that case would be most certainly unwanted.

****

RW: [nods] I heartily agree. It's absolutely an abuse of authority. Certainly in my high school principal days I'd come down very hard on any teacher involved with a student.

****

UNS: So, let's go straight to a Slayer who is of age and operating in the field. In this scenario, you see the Watcher as offering advice and playing the role of conscience.

****

RW: Precisely.

****

UNS: [begins playing with stylus] If the Watcher in that role became intimately involved with his or her Slayer, aren't you concerned that the Watcher's judgment might be impaired? It would seem to me that any advisor worth his or her salt would have to present all the alternatives, including alternatives that might call upon the Slayer to give up her life to do what's right. In an intimate relationship, a Watcher might lose his or her objectivity, which might ultimately lead to endangering not just the Slayer, but the mission as well.

****

RW: [nods slowly] I think I see where you're heading. That such a relationship might compromise the Watcher or distract him or her from the mission.

****

UNS: Precisely.

****

RW: [leans back with a frown] To be honest, I hadn't thought of that. [quietly] That's a good point.

****

UNS: [quickly] Please, please, don't take it **that **seriously. I'm merely playing devil's advocate. It is my job, after all.

****

RW: [quietly] Doesn't make the point any less valid.

****

UNS: [taps stylus on the chin] Look, it's very obvious you're still working out your role in the post-Sun'dayl world, so please don't beat yourself up about this. After all, until yesterday you were just a Pawn.

****

RW: [narrows eyes at **UNS**]

****

UNS: [brightly] But you've moved beyond that because now you're more than just a Pawn. You're a Bishop!

****

RW: {laughter} Remind me to rethink my chess analogy.

****

UNS: What I'm saying still pretty much holds: you've just accepted the role of Watcher and all the responsibility that goes with it. [quickly adds] I'm assuming you've accepted.

****

RW: Of course.

****

UNS: So I suppose it's a matter of you thinking things through, figuring out what role you play and how you play it, and learning how to conduct yourself accordingly.

****

RW: [smiles] That would be fair to say. 

****

UNS: Excellent!

****

RW: And let me just thank you for a most wonderful interview.

****

UNS: I believe that's my line.

****

RW: I'm being serious. You've given me food for thought. It's a** lot **to think about.

****

UNS: [smiles and softly adds] I thought I might. 

****

RW: [sees **UNS **working MemePad with stylus] By the way, how does that thing work?

****

UNS: Oh, it allows me to do some minor editing on the fly. [erases interview after **RW**'s line: "That would be fair to say."]

TBC.


	34. Get Nervous

****

Part 34: Get Nervous 

Faith fidgeted in her seat while the some of the inner circle drifted into the kitchen. She told herself that she did **not **want to sneak out for a smoke, heavy stress or no. Smoking got her into this shit in the first place. If that wasn't enough to get her to kick the habit, nothing will.

The surgeon general had a point. Who the fuck knew?

She hated this feeling of not being in control. Even prison didn't beat down that part of her personality. Considering that in prison her days were tuned to the clock, the orders of the screws, the clang of steel doors, the threat of solitary, and the sometimes weird-ass thoughts that would get stuck in other inmates' heads about taking her on or making her their bitch, other people might think this an odd thing.

Except that Faith would be the first to admit that even in prison she had a semblance of control. She could've escaped and walked away any time. True, she didn't have really anywhere to go before Wes showed up in the visitor's room to break the news about Angelus, but the point is she was in prison because she let herself be locked up.

So, in a twisted way, Faith was in control of her punishment. Deep down she knew that, even if other people didn't see it that way.

But this whole situation with Catherine? She couldn't quite get her hands around it. This was so much bigger than her, than all of them. From the moment she opened her mouth to Catherine about the truth right to this very moment in the kitchen, she could feel the world tilting off its axis and she couldn't figure out how to recapture her sense of equilibrium. 

The only thing she could do was zip her big fat mouth, and she had full intention of doing just that. Sure, things were rocky between her and Robin right now, but Catherine's revelation would be one big stake to the heart if it got out. And then there was the Robin-and-Xander angle. Christ, things were bad enough between the two of them and this little revelation would only torque the tension.

She could see it now: Every time Xander opened his mouth to argue anything, Robin'd put it down to jealousy. Shit. Wouldn't be the first time she'd seen it happen in this crew. In a few of her cemetery patrols with Buffy back before things went sour, she remembered the other Slayer ranting about some thing or another Xander said and fluffing it off to the fact that Xander was so very obviously jealous of Angel. 

Even though Faith back then really didn't give a shit about lessons in Scooby Dynamics 101, she thought some of the crap B said Xander said was kinda right. Hell, B did hide Angel's return after all the shit he pulled as Angelus, so B, in her humble opinion, didn't have a whole lot of fucking room to talk about letting emotions do the thinking, especially since she got caught in the crossfire of the immediate fallout. 

__

Can you be a little more unfair? Robin ain't no high school girl and he wouldn't think that everything boiled down to jealousy. She hoped. Given the increased snarling between Xander and Robin since Catherine and friends blew into town, she really wasn't sure. 

Oddly enough, she wasn't actually worried about Xander spilling the beans. If she read the situation right, Xander seemed bound and determined to not only keep his yap shut, but to do everything in his power to make sure her-and-him never happened. No. Faith was a hell of a lot more worried about the future people upsetting the applecart with the wrong word at the wrong time. Hell, they spilled the beans about choose-your-own destiny for Slayers by accident. Catherine's ancestry was small shit in comparison to that.

"There you are. Was wondering where you got to."

Faith startled at the sound of Robin's voice.

"You're jumpy," he remarked with a grin.

"Surprised me is all," Faith recovered. "Hey, plant your sweet ass next to mine. Got a seat all saved for ya."

"Can't," Robin said, "I figure I should stand next to Giles when our friends present their proof. My job as the household's designated cynic."

"So? Be a cynic on this side of the kitchen with me."

Robin looked at her a moment before asking, "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. Just that we haven't had me-and-you time in a while and I thought…"

Robin stifled a smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Me-and-you time? In a kitchen full of people? Kinky."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know, I know. Just trying to ease the tension in your shoulders," Robin replied. "No one gets my sense of humor."

Faith shook her head. "Sorry. It's just overwhelming. We're getting some hard-ass proof and, I dunno, it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Can't see why," Robin shrugged, "they seem to actually like you."

Faith could hear the slight edge of disappointment and hurt in Robin's voice in the unstated sentiment: you they like, in Xander they trust, me they hate. 

"It's probably some bullshit thing we don't know nothin' about. Let it slide, babe," Faith said. "Hell, if I let people hating my guts get to me, I'd've tried to drown myself in the Charles a million years ago."

"Somehow I don't see you giving up that easily." 

"Okay, you caught me. The Charles is so polluted that you can walk on it even during the summer. Throwing myself into that river probably would've been like throwing myself on a waterbed. Lots of waves, but no dice on death."

Faith was relieved to see that got a laugh out of Robin and she felt herself relax. It was all good. They were good. This was just a rough patch they were going through. He really did care about her and she really did like him. It was going to be okay, no matter what Catherine's sour face didn't say about him.

"I thought our environmentalist age had cleaned it up," Robin chuckled.

"Still wouldn't eat fish out of it," Faith countered. "C'mon, been keeping this seat warm for you. If you don't take it, I'll have to auction it off to the highest bidder."

Robin gave her a tired smile. "I really can't, so I say take the suckers for all they're worth. Make it up to you later?"

Faith opened her mouth to protest just as Robin turned and headed for Giles's side. She shut it and swallowed hard. The kitchen wasn't **that **big that he couldn't say whatever he wanted to say while sitting next to her. Why the hell did he always have to prove that he was the big man in charge? No one was volunteering to take over his gig, so why didn't he just calm down about it and start acting like a man?

__

Will you fucking stop it? Faith chided herself. _You're sounding needier than a broke junkie jonesing for a fix. What the fuck is wrong with you? Since when are you a clinging vine?_

Since two hours ago when she had the bomb dropped on her in the backyard, that's when.

She could hear Dawn and Andrew chattering as they joined the crowd in the kitchen and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Dawn was okay, even if she'd been keeping distant from the Slayer side of the equation in favor of school and boys, but Andrew's delusions were just about the last thing she needed to hear.

The tenor in the room changed and Faith looked up just in time to see Xander walk in followed by the groupies from the future.

__

Christ, he looks fucking miserable. She didn't feel one stitch of sympathy that Xander was probably taking this whole business just as hard as she was, maybe even harder. 

If he knew that she knew, he gave no sign as he launched into what he was going to say without a preamble.

"The journal," he fidgeted as he placed the book on the kitchen table, "it was written by me."

This simple statement was greeted with silence as Xander shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.

Giles broke the silence. "Oh, dear."

Since Giles was standing off to Xander's left, the brunet had to turn his whole head to see Giles's reaction. 

"Well, that certainly does…I must say it…this is quite a complication," Giles stumbled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, meet Giles, the zen master of understatement," Xander said. "And for the record, I'm hurt. I'd think this little revelation rates as a definite 'Oh good lord.'"

"Yes. Quite. I'm trying to be discreet."

__

Wha? Faith thought as she switched her full attention to Giles. _Shit! That's right! He knows! We are so screwed!_

"So what's the big hullabaloo?" Dawn asked. "I mean, it makes sense, right? Of **course **it's Xander's journal since **he **was the one in Moscow when this all originally happened, so this should be more of a 'duh, we're all idiots' moment than 'wow, this is **huge**' moment."

"I know who has the Scooby brain cell today," Andrew sing-songed happily.

Xander and Giles exchanged a look that, to Faith's mind, said: "Should you tell them or should I?" Catherine and the others shuffled uncomfortably behind Xander.

Xander looked away and Faith held her breath.

"It's not that simple," Xander admitted with a hard swallow. "See, the thing is…thing thing is…" He looked at Giles helplessly. The encouraging nod he got seemed to give him some strength as he turned to face the room. "Okay, I gotta come clean about this since two too many people know…"

Faith could feel the butterflies in her stomach. Xander **didn't **know that she knew. Thank Christ. And judging by the fact that Giles was pretty focused on the guy talking, **he **probably didn't know either. Halleluiah. Something was breaking in her favor.

"…Catherine's, ummm, she's a relative. Of mine. She's a, umm, well, let's just say somewhere along the way that…"

"…at some point in the future you have sex?" 

"Dawn!" the room exploded.

"Unless he donated sperm and didn't actually get jiggy with it."

"DAWN!" the chorus of voices repeated with a louder sense of outrage.

"What? Just pointing out the obvious," Dawn grinned as Giles began polishing his glasses with the fury an electric sander, Xander blushed into a shade of purple, Willow began choking, and the collective jaws of Catherine's crew hung open.

"Dawn? Where did you learn to be so crude?" Buffy sputtered.

"Meet Xander, king of the right quip at the wrong time, and Faith, queen of crude," Dawn giggled.

"I didn't do it!" Faith protested against the unreasonable panic of hearing her name and Xander's paired in the same sentence.

Buffy crossed her arms and gave Dawn a glare. "Stop blaming other people for your evil thoughts," she huffed.

"So, you're saying that Catherine is your direct descendant?" Robin interrupted. 

Faith noticed Robin looked relieved, as if this fact explained **everything **he needed to know about the real deal. Shit. She could see the wheels turning in his head. Catherine didn't like him because as a descendant she had access to Xander's journals. And since Xander and he didn't get along, Xander obviously didn't like him and that was just as obviously recorded, kick-starting a cycle of Robin underappreciation for everything he'd done in Sunnydale and Cleveland. Which means even without little ol' her in the picture, Robin's insult now had an injury to go with it. 

__

Vicious? Meet circle. Oh joy, Faith thought as Robin rubbed his chin and watched Xander squirm under the question. 

Xander scrubbed a hand through his hair and Faith could see him biting back the first crack that came to mind, which, if she were willing to lay bets, probably would've been on the order of how nice it was that Robin knew how to state the obvious. Instead, Xander gave a mild, "Yes."

"Well now that you mention it, there is a resembly resemblance what with the height, and the mouth, and those shoulders. You don't work out do you Catherine? Because you got big shoulders for a woman, so maybe it's a genetic thing?" Willow began, "Plus, it explains why I think you're kinda hot, at least a little, because you know, what with the fluking and formal wear and all. Ummm, so, good thing Catherine didn't actually bring formal wear because then that would be…WHEW!…a total mess. My mother would have a **field **day with this one. And, you know, the way you're looking at me Xander? I'm thinking it's time for me to shut up now. Kennedy? Why are you just standing there? Aren't you supposed to stop me when my mouth starts moving like this?"

"Because I love it when your mouth moves like this," Kennedy answered.

"Oh, right," Willow nodded. "Never mind."

"I think my brain hurts," Xander said. 

"I think my brain snapped," Catherine said.

"I think my brain is broken," J'Nal said.

"I hope this thing is working," Ms. Tikri tapped at her MemePad.

"I think it's cute," Charlie said.

"You would," Ruda said.

"People, focus," Robin clapped. "Obviously you read the journal. What did you have to say?"

Xander twitched uncomfortably and again Faith held her breath. _Oh shit! If there's something in there about the two of us making with the nasty…_

"Actually, not a lot…" Xander began.

"Now **there's **a surprise." To Robin's credit, he looked downright embarrassed that he let that thought get out of his mouth. To his even bigger credit, he tried to recover, "What I meant was…I mean…"

"I know what you meant," Xander cut him off with a dirty look. "But you didn't let me finish. There's a spell on the book. The only things I **can **see are the pages that detail the original visit to Moscow. Everything else is blocked."

Faith let out a whoosh of breath. She looked around, hoping no one heard her. She was in luck. Everyone was so into Xander's trauma that no one was paying attention to her.

"How so?" Willow was laser focused on the journal.

"Basically? I can open the book, but only four pages are free. All the others are crazy-glued shut, so you can't break 'em apart," Xander explained. "We ran a quickie test upstairs and found out that just my presence in the room is enough to trigger the spell. We don't know if it'll react the same way to anyone else."

"That could pose a problem if it doesn't," Giles admitted.

"What Alexander is trying to say is we need to run another test," Catherine smoothly cut in. "He proposes that he and Faith leave the room…"

"Why me?" Faith interrupted with a little more heat than she intended.

"Because you were in Moscow the first time around, so it's a good bet that how it reacts to me is how it'll react to you," Xander answered.

__

Damn, not even a trace that he knows. Faith was impressed, although a little corner of her mind wondered if this was a ruse for Xander to get her alone and break the news about her being a mommy. Prick.

"Yes. It is worth trying," Giles agreed. "Obviously, you'll need a guinea pig to open the journal when…"

"I want you to do it," Xander interrupted.

"Are you quite sure? I'm certain that anyone…"

"Giles, look, I trust you. If it doesn't work we need to know ASAP. And if you should catch something you shouldn't? I know you won't tell anyone, right?" Xander asked hopefully.

Giles looked like he was about to protest, but the expression on Xander's face rendered him speechless and he nodded. 

"All right then. I'll be just outside," Xander said as he turned. He gave Faith an unreadable look and asked, "Coming?"

Faith hauled out of her chair and hoped she was walking normally as she left the room. When they entered the hallway, she noticed Xander was making a big show of inspecting a chip in the paint on a doorframe. She leaned against the wall and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally she couldn't stand it any more. "Staring at it ain't going to fix it."

Xander flopped around and leaned against the opposite wall with arms crossed. "Trying to decide whether or not to bother. With all the weapons that get carried around the house, I'm not sure if painting over every nick and scrape is a good waste of my time."

"Oh."

Xander made a "hunh" face and looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. While the quiet stretched out, Faith found her eyes wandering. At some point she caught herself tunelessly whistling under her breath.

"So what do you think?" Xander asked.

"About what?" Faith shot back.

He held up his hands at the hostility in her voice. "Moscow. Remember Moscow? At some point we gotta start thinking passports."

"And you think I know shit about…"

"Just askin'." Xander rolled his right eye while the left remained disturbingly fixed straight ahead. This automatic reaction was enough to pick up the tear production with the fake eye and he swiped the wetness away with an irritated move. 

"Yeah, well, not thrilled. Isn't it getting cold there right about now? Subzero temperatures, Cyclops. I'm telling you, you're gonna love it," Faith said with an edge of nasty in her voice.

"Don't remind me. Cleveland's cold enough." Attempt at small talk now officially failed, Xander again went back to examining the chip in the paint, left hand still wiping under the fake eye.

__

Wheeeee! What we have here is a cozy couple moment! Look out world! The romance that'll knock yer socks right off. Sid and Nancy got nothin' on us, Faith thought. 

Giles stuck his head out of the kitchen, ruining a classic moment of uncomfortable silence. "It appears you have no worries," he announced. "The journal won't open for any of us either."

"Thank god!" Xander exclaimed.

Faith knew what Xander's relieved grin meant: he had no intentions of ever telling anyone the whole truth. While Xander practically bounced into the kitchen, Faith kept her return more low-key as she slunk back into her seat.

Xander, in the meantime, had snatched the journal back up, opening it to the offending pages while he scanned the entry with a frown.

"I thought you already read it," Robin said.

"Well, yeah, there's something really bothering me," Xander said absently while he tapped a finger on the page. 

"This is soooo cool," Andrew enthused. "It's like that movie _Frequency _when this guy gets a ham radio transmission from his father in the past and tries to change history."

"I really don't see…" Giles began.

"Well, it's not **obvious**," Andrew rolled his eyes. "Because, you know, it's actually a journal, not a ham radio, and because it's actually Xander writing it, instead of Xander's dad. Or Xander's son. And because **he **isn't trying to change history, but maybe history's already been changed because the time travelers landed in the wrong year. Oh, and there are time travelers involved where in the movie there wasn't."

Xander kept muttering under his breath as he reread the entry while everyone else gave Andrew the hairy eyeball.

"So, what you're saying," Kennedy said very slowly, "is that there's actually no correlation at all."

"Exactly," Andrew happily nodded.

"Pay no attention to Andrew," Xander commented absently, "the little man behind his curtain has run away to attend a Star Trek con and won't be back until next year."

"Xaaaan-der, the con's **next** week, remember?" Andrew asked. "We've got tickets!"

Xander finally gave Andrew his full attention with a worried frown. "Tell me how I let you talk me into this again?" 

"Nana Visitor."

"Nana Visitor is going?" Willow squeaked. "You should've told me! They're not sold out, are they? I hope they haven't sold out. She's such a cool actress and Kira was the best character and _Deep Space Nine_ is the only _Star Trek_ I really like."

"**I **already got my ticket," Dawn stuck her tongue out at Willow. "You'll just have to buy at the door."

"Can anyone figure out what they're saying?" J'Nal plaintively asked.

"No," Robin volunteered. "Does that make you feel any better?"

Faith saw Catherine bite her tongue and keep her face neutral. 

"I'm going to need a ride," Willow wheedled.

"No roooooooom in the caaaaaaaar!" Dawn sing-songed. "You snooze, you lose."

"Fine. Directions then." Willow huffed. 

Xander's eyes snapped to Willow. Then he looked down at the journal. He started tapping the page as his face fought a smile. 

"What is it?" Giles asked sharply.

"It's a book," Xander announced.

"What?" Catherine asked.

"Your mystical Arrow," Xander looked like he was about to dance a jig around the room. "It's not a magical weapon, or a super special compass, it's a book! In this journal, Arrow is capitalized and underlined like it's a book!"

"Better not be a cookbook, because, ewwwww!" Dawn shuddered.

The Future Crew exchanged glances. "Obviously a very rare book," J'Nal said. "Who knows what secrets it holds."

"It holds street maps," Xander grinned. Faith could see he was enjoying the bubble bursting just a little too much. 

"Street maps," Catherine slowly said.

"**Special **street maps?" J'Nal sounded hopeful.

"Copies of which you can find anywhere," Charlie chuckled. "What do you want to wager?"

"Want me to hold back on the answer until everyone places their bet?" Xander asked.

"Xander," Giles warned.

"Sorry, sorry. I can't…oh this is too funny…"

"Xander," Robin growled.

Xander plopped against the kitchen wall as a fit of giggles took over. "Bookstore. Down the street. Look for the screaming yellow cover. I used the Southern California edition for my construction job all the time. Anyone got thirty bucks?"

"Shockingly enough, I do," Faith volunteered with a relieved and happy grin at the goofily giggling Willow who gave Faith the 'back atchya' sign.

"Well, at least it sounds expensive," J'Nal said.

"That's not even the price of a pair of shoes," Buffy huffed. She quickly amended, "Unless you shop at Payless, and no one wants **that**, because the day this Slayer shops at Payless? You know the situation is desperate."

TBC…


	35. Spotlight on Dawn

****

Part 35: Spotlight on Dawn

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Dawn Summers**, sister to **Buffy Summers-rah**, occupant of Taran United Watcher's Council building, pre-founding, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

Less is known about **Dawn Summers** than even **Andrew Wells**. However, the silence around her existence has a very different tenor**.** The shield around this young woman seems to be carefully protective, rather than harshly ostracizing. 

That's not to say that Buffy's sister is an utter mystery. Historical records left from the early-to-mid-21st century Tara reveal that she grew up to be **Dr. Summers-Horvath**, a prolific author of hundreds of medical research papers, was considered one of the best trauma surgeons in the world, and was based out of the Cleveland Clinic, one of the premiere medical facilities in what was then called the United States. Her revolutionary (at the time) ideas about treating trauma patients lead to a legacy of countless lives saved and a revolution in how catastrophic injuries were treated.

Her stature in the field of medicine has been forgotten by our modern times. Medical achievement, like all scientific advancement, eventually must give way to new discoveries, a constantly evolving understanding of the human body, and new treatments that make patient care less onerous. However, there is no denying that while she lived **Dr. Summers-Horvath** saved more lives with her ideas than most single Slayers can hope to save in a lifetime. That does not change, even if the sands of time have covered her lightly imprinted footsteps.

****

Dr. Summers-Horvath herself acknowledged that such a fate was only right and proper for her. In the only surviving contemporary interview of any of the Sun'dayl Survivors in Cleveland, the physician said, "The human body is a puzzle behind a locked door. As doctors, it is our mission to unlock that door as we try to discover how all the pieces fit and work together. Any doctor should view himself or herself as a key designed to unlock that door, take hold of the puzzle, and try to put it all together. The good news is we don't have to do it alone. Everything I've ever done has built on what other people have discovered before me. After I'm gone, other people will build on what I have done, leaving me in history's dust. That's the way it should be." [TouchInfor Reference_:_ New York Times Magazine, 'Changing the Tragedy of Trauma: One Doctor Bucks the System and Wins,' _January 26, 2025, p1] _

Beyond her relationship to **Summers-rah**, the records of the United Taran Watcher's Council are mysteriously silent about her. Yet, re-read the journals left behind by her friends and family in the Cleveland household, and you might find traces of her elusive presence in the very vague references to a mysterious person known only as "the Doc." The Doc—whoever it may be—taught various Watchers and Slayers first aid and undertook late night missions of mercy when injuries were too difficult for limited medical training or Slayer healing to overcome.

The strongest evidence—maybe even the only evidence—we have that **Dr. Summers-Horvath **did not entirely turn her back on her sister's life lie in the legacy she left Seneca Academy for Young Women—the euphemistic name the United Council used for its public face during the 21st Century—after her death in 2057. She willed her entire considerable estate to the United Council for the sole purpose of building a state-of-the-art, fully staffed medical facility. She insisted that the new medical complex be named The Alexander Lavelle Harris Memorial Medical Centerbecause, as she wrote, "He was the driving force behind making sure all students at the school were trained in first aid and he was the only one willing to risk his neck going to Tibet during the Mystical Rayne Plague so I think he deserves it, especially since he died to get that cure. If some of you don't like it and want a different name? Then you don't need my money all that much. Hope you enjoy actually paying for health insurance and co-pays for doctors' services." [TouchInfor References:_ Last Will and Testament of Dawn Summers-Horvath, dated October 27, 2043, certified copy, United Taran Watchers Council, Record Number 41007] _

It should be noted here that her gift incubated the beginnings of what is now the Key Medical Order, the corps of physicians that work directly with both Councils and their allied Slayers. 

These tantalizing tidbits tell us nothing for certain about this mysterious woman, although one can almost imagine the contrary personality that made her a great physician in those brief glimpses we can find or imagine we find. One can't help but think that she'd like it that way if she knew, as we shall see an exclusive **UNS **interview.

****

DS: Knew you'd come around to me sooner or later.

****

UNS: {chuckle} Everyone else has expressed shock and surprise that I want to talk to them.

****

DS: Lyyyyyyy-ing. Well, maybe Faith was surprised because she was the first person you grabbed. But everyone else? *pfffffft* [leans forward and adds] Although I think you've laid the trauma down on everyone during the interviews. You don't pull punches do you?

****

UNS: [sits up] I haven't…

****

DS: They're all soooooo gonna need therapy. Buffy's been hiding under the bed since you **talked **to her. I had to bribe her with cheese to get her to the **last **house meeting where Xander broke the bad news that your Arrow isn't an actual Arrow. 

****

UNS: [squirms] Unh, I didn't…

****

DS: Actually, they all need therapy anyway. I mean, how long have they known each other? Like for-eeeeever. And they **still **can't figure out how to talk to each other. It's soooo stupid. I'm practically ready to start walking around with a staple gun and {makes a ker-**chunk** sound} start pounding metal clues into everyone's forehead. 

****

UNS Are you saying the lines of communication aren't very clear between…

****

DS: What I'm **saying** is: promise the Scoobs a big, ugly nasty; promise them there'll be quippage; promise them pain; promise them that they'll be bleeding before the end; and **don't **forget the rip-your-heart-out emotional moment with sobbing and wailing and they are **all over **that. Get them in a room to have a real conversation? They'll **find **a way to trip over a random big, ugly nasty so they'll have another shot at pain, bleeding, and sobbing just to avoid talking. 

****

UNS: Unhhhh…You sound frustrated…

****

DS: {sighs} Sorry. I had to bribe Buffy with a cheese omelet this morning to get her out of bed. She thinks she's fooling me with her peachy-with-a-side-of-keen act, but she's not. I just don't know what to do. She's so hard to figure out sometimes. [pause] Should I be worried about her Cracker Barrel addiction?

****

UNS: Well, she is a Slayer and Slayers are wired a little differently then…

****

DS: OOOOooooo! I hate that! That is such utter crap! That's almost as bad as 'the Slayer stands alone.' Whenever I hear that I just want to…

****

UNS: [cowers] Scream?

****

DS: Smack Buffy into next week.

****

UNS: Ah.

****

DS: Besides, screaming doesn't work. Talk softly and carry a big clue-by-four, that's my new motto.

****

UNS: Klew-buy-for?

****

DS: It's like a two-by-four, only you whack people with it when they're being stupid.

****

UNS: I still don't…

****

DS: The thing is, everyone's a still an emotional wreck after Sunnydale but—shhhhhhhhh—don't talk about it and—shhhhhhhhhh—don't admit you're still hurting because then someone might mistake you for someone who's weak and a coward. 

****

UNS: That's…that's…but…aren't heroes supposed to soldier on?

****

DS: Stupid heroes.

****

UNS: Well maybe…

****

DS: Look. Take a **really **good look. Everyone's dealing by not dealing. Robin's hiding behind the "must save the Slayers" schtick. Xander's hiding behind the "must help the Slayers" schtick. Willow's hiding behind her computer. Giles is hiding behind the fact he doesn't have a book to read that isn't from this month's Harlequin line. Buffy's hiding under the bed. Faith's hiding underneath Robin. The baby Slayers are hiding behind the wall of whine. And no one, not one person, is willing to say, 'Hey! You know what? I'm hurting over here and I'm sick and tired of being brave. Will someone let me fall apart for one lousy second?'

****

UNS: [amused] You're willing to say it, at least.

****

DS: [deflates] I'm the biggest hypocrite of all. I'm hurting, too, but do I say anything? Nooooo. I go to school and pretend I'm normal girl. Paint a big red N on my chest and the picture's complete.

****

UNS: What do people say at school when they visit you here?

****

DS: [harshly] They don't. {sigh} I mean, how do I explain **this**? How? I've come up with a few choice excuses, but, c'mon, they all sound worse than the truth, and the truth would get me locked up in a rubber room with 24-hour bell service provided by the Men in the White Coats.

****

UNS: You don't know that.

****

DS: Okay, hmmmm. I know, 'This is a convent and all my housemates are nuns-in-training. Except for Faith. She's the hooker they're trying to reform.' See? That one sucks. Oh! How about this? 'We're a home for runaways and our mission is to get these troubled girls back on the right path. Except for Faith. We keep her around to show what happens if you don't walk the straight and narrow.' Still doesn't work. 'Everyone here is a member of an apocalyptic doomsday cult because we **know **sooner or later we'll forget to lucky and when that happens, you're all toast. Except for Faith. She thinks dying happens to **other **people.' That last one has the problem of being a little **too **close to the truth. Maybe if I throw in a bit about how we have a Stargate in our basement made out of kitchen parts that will allow us to escape when the big bang happens? Nah. Then I'd sound too much like Andrew.

****

UNS: I'm sensing a trend. You're not exactly fond of Faith, are you?

****

DS: I have Faith-shaped problems. I admit it.

****

UNS: Why?

****

DS: Faith did her share of bad back in Sunnydale. When I first met her, at least when my memories **tell **me I first met her, I thought she was cool and everything. Then she starts believing her bad girl persona and goes really bad. She takes off, gets herself reformed, blows back into town, and she's all, 'Hey! Sorry about that!' But I don't think she really feels it, y'know. Just toss a 'Hey!' and all things are cool? Not buying. 

****

UNS: But isn't she…

****

DS: One of the good guys. Yeah. I'm being unfair a little because, y'know, she's doing patrols and offering to help out in little ways. But, I don't know…maybe it would be **nice **if Faith acted less cool beans with her Baby Docs and tight jeans and her trophy boyfriend and acted more like a real person.

****

UNS: Well…

****

DS: And if you so much as **hint **Slayers are wired differently, I **will **hurt you.

****

UNS: [amused] You seem pretty insistent on that point.

****

DS: [silence, thoughtful frown] Thing is I've been around Slayerness my whole life. Well, not my whole life? Yes, I **do **mean my whole life if we're going to stick with the true facts. For the longest time I just wanted…I guess I wanted to be special too. It's like being the sister to a prodigy, y'know? When your sib can pull an Amadeus and write operas at the age of 6, and even though you get straight As and are pretty smart for yourself, you just don't measure up because you'll never be as good as your sister, who gets all the petting and extra attention she wants and needs because no matter how special you are, you're not as special as **her**.

****

UNS: Sounds like jealousy.

****

DS: A little. I guess. The thing is, according to my memories and everyone else's, I was on board with the Buffy-pandering and the Buffy-worship. Then the past two years…[shrug] I know it sounds mean, especially since Buffy was going through a two-year bad patch kicked off by mom dying and then dying in the fight against Glorificus…

****

UNS: Wait, wait. Buffy **died**?

****

DS: Twice, but she's feeling much better now.

****

UNS: [checks MemePad for bio on **BS** for date of death, sees 7/17/2036—Gavrok Infestation, St. Augustine, Florida] I don't…I don't…

****

DS: [waves hand] Willow got Xander, Anya, and Tara to help her raise Buffy from the dead.

****

UNS: [checks MemePad for bios on **WR **and **AH**] I, unh, don't see anything here…

****

DS: Duh! Not surprised since they weren't supposed to do it in the first place. Giles was **furious **when he found out.

****

UNS: But I'd think that he'd be…

****

DS: Like I said, we're feeling better about it now, but I really doubt we'll be doing it again because [shudders] the consequences weren't pretty. Sounds ungrateful, I know, especially since Buffy died saving me from Glorificus who wanted to use me as the Key to open a portal back to her hell dimension.

****

UNS: Why?

****

DS: [startles] Hunh?

****

UNS: Why did this…Glor-if-fikis? Think you were the key to…

****

DS: [airily waves hand] Helloooooooo! Crazy hell goddess. Who knows why she thought what she did? We were stuck with dealing with the fact she believed it. [grins] Do I **look **like a green, glowing blob of energy that's older than time? 

UNS: {laughter} No.

****

DS: See? [taps finger to temple, giggles] **Total **nut case. [sobers] But after that, after Buffy came back from the dead, I felt like I was locked on the other side of the looking glass. Buffy was shutting me out because she thought I was too young, too stupid, and too innocent to understand everything she was going through. But I really think it boiled down to: 'I am the Slayer, and you are not, so you can't understand.' She never tried to explain anything.

****

UNS: How did that make you feel?

****

DS: Well, that made me feel like I was the one who had a problem because I really did want to understand her. That meant getting more involved with her world. Wanting to fight. To kick ass. You know, the Slayer bit. But…

****

UNS: But?

****

DS: [mouth twitches] Thing is, Sunnydale didn't just leave a big, gapping hole in the ground. It left a big, gapping hole in everyone's hearts. Even mine. Maybe especially mine. I dunno. When we first hit Cleveland and I was feeling even more alone than ever because I was surrounded by Slayers. All of them powerful, all of them naturally beautiful and athletic—I mean, have you ever **heard **of an ugly Slayer—all of them with that special hue around them. And me? I'm just Dawn, Buffy's sister. Oh, and I can translate any dead language you want. I'm a regular Rosetta Stone.

****

UNS: But that's a useful talent, especially if you want to get into research or become…

****

DS: Will you let me finish? God! I'm trying to explain something here. 

****

UNS: Sorry.

****

DS: The thing is, before we motored into Cleveland, I had a plan. "Dawn Summers, Junior Watcher." That was me to a T. 

****

UNS: Sounds like a good plan. 

****

DS: The problem with any plan you think up during an apocalypse is that it kinda tends to fall apart once the apocalypse has been avoided, you know? Life eventually has to go back to normal, well, as normal as it **can **be when your sister's a Slayer and everyone you know fights demons. I still had to go to school and still had to plan for college.

****

UNS: [nods in understanding] So the normal life is more alluring?

****

DS: How can I explain this? The first week at my new school I was all: 'This sucks. I don't want to be here. I want to be home where all the important stuff is going on. Not taking World History or English Lit.' Then one day Lisa and Tammi, they're two Slayers who live here, they grab me and ask me how school went, and what did I learn, and what did I think of the teachers, and if there were any cute boys.

****

UNS: Why?

****

DS: I'm getting to that. At first I was mad because I thought they were making fun of me. I mean, who **wants **to go to school when they don't have to? But they kept asking questions, and asking for details, and they seemed **really** interested. When they asked me to get information about the GED, that's when it hit me: they wanted to be me.

****

UNS: They're not happy being Slayers?

****

DS: That I don't know, but…well, I think what they wanted is to have a choice. Being a Slayer may be cool, but that fact that I could be anything I wanted to be? They seemed to think that was cooler. After I realized that I started really paying attention to what was going on and know what I found out?

****

UNS: What?

****

DS: That the baby Slayers don't understand me at all. They really don't. To them I'm completely normal and because of that my future is anything I want it to be. If I want to be a doctor, lawyer, Indian chief—well, maybe not an Indian chief—but if I wanted to do it, I could just go **do **it. Nothing is written in stone for me. My future is wide open. I can **make **my own destiny and there isn't any prophecy, any mission, anything at all that can stand in my way. So if I had that, why did I want to be **here** when I could be **out there**?

****

UNS: [sits up] So **that's **why you aren't upset about us not knowing about you!

****

DS: [grins] Means that whatever I'll do, I'll do it because I want to do it. My life, my **future **is my own. [grin disappears] But I feel bad for everyone else, though. They don't have that luxury at all, do they?

****

UNS: [shrugs] We honestly don't know because…

****

DS: Oh the timeline being all messed up, yeah. But…I dunno…look at it from their point of view, hunh? You've got people from the future reacting to people in this house like they're heroes, villains, or nothing at all. That kind of reaction registers even with people who need to ride the short bus to school. Whether you like it or not, that **will **affect what they do from here on out. Now, maybe Faith and Buffy are cool with that, being Slayers and all. Destiny kinda comes with the territory. Maybe Robin's okay with it because he's the son of a Slayer. Maybe even Giles is okay with it because he's a Watcher and Willow's cool with it because she's a witch. The person I really feel bad for is Xander.

****

UNS: Why?

****

DS: [looks down] Before you guys showed, he was like me in a way. He could choose what he wanted to do and go where he wanted. I don't think you guys realize it—I don't think even **he **realizes it—but you, all of you, **stole** that from him. [tears start to spill] You placed a load of destiny on his shoulders and took away the one thing that made him **different **from everyone else.

****

UNS: [softly] The ability to choose his own future…oh, hada.

****

DS: Maybe I'm being overly dramatic, because I really doubt that Xander would ever walk away from us. Not really. But it's like [angrily wipes away tears] you've locked him into place. Made him just as much a creature of history and destiny as Buffy ever was and that's just **wrong**. He doesn't deserve that happening to him. He's too extraordinary for that.

****

UNS: I don't know what to…

****

DS: [straightens in chair, glares at **UNS**] But you're not going to do that to **me**. Do you understand? I'm going to choose **my **future. Nothing is written for me and for that I will get down on my knees every day and thank God. Let other people translate ancient texts; there are plenty of people who can. Let other people be the Slayers because now there are plenty of them around, too. Let other people be the ones to Watch; I don't want to do it because that means destiny might someday grab me and not let me go.

****

UNS: What **are** you going to do?

****

DS: Me? Someone has to help the other normal humans out there and there are lots of possibilities. **Lots **of them. But the point is **I will choose. **Not you. Not destiny. Not history. Me. And **that** is what makes me extraordinary, whether anyone in the future remembers me or not. [stands]

****

UNS: Wait, I have more questions…

****

DS: [grins] I'm sure you do, but I don't have any answers. I do want to thank you, though.

****

UNS: What? Why?

****

DS: Until you guys showed up, some part of me wondered if the world would end when I died. Now I know it won't. Thank you for that. I can now make my own future with a clear conscience.

****

UNS: Why would you believe that? That the world might end when you died?

****

DS: The key to that mystery? That key belongs only to me.

TBC…


	36. Verdandi, Skuld, and Urd In Order of App...

****

Part 36: Verdandi, Skuld, and Urd (In Order of Appearance) 

Faith spun her kick right into the punching bag, snapping its chain and sending it flying across the basement. She swiped her sweaty brown hair out of her eyes and let loose with a string of curses that would make her mother blush. Okay, not so much **her **mother. Buffy's mother definitely.

"Don't tell me. You and Robin fought **again**?"

Speak of the blonde devil.

"No," Faith said shortly, not bothering to turn around while she glared at the bag for failing to live up to its end of the bargain.

There was a moment of silence while Faith imagined Buffy looking from her to the punching bag and back again. Her judgment on the issue of Faith's veracity was rendered with a, "Riiiiiiiiiight."

"Fuck. How the hell am I gonna fix this?" Faith muttered.

"Xander'll do it."

Faith jerked her head around and nailed Buffy with a glare.

She got a half-smile in return. "He won't be dancing with joy about it, but he'll fix it. But **you **get to help by holding the bag and listening to him rant about us wrecking the training room. Cho-Ahn broke it the last time and her ears were burning for weeks after Alexander the Great was through with her. Not that she understood a thing he said."

"I didn't get into a fight with Robin," Faith snarled as she stalked over to her water bottle.

"Unh-hunh." Buffy shot the bag a meaningful glance. "That's what you said the last time you broke something."

"I didn't break…"

"I was thinking specifically of that Midget."

"Med-Guardé," Faith automatically corrected. She added in a grumble, "Like Robin didn't keep reminding me of the name afterwards every time I screwed it up."

"Talking under your breath about Robin. Definitely a fight."

"What the hell business is it of yours how my sex life is going?" Faith fumed. "Jesus, will you just get laid already so I can get you off my back?" 

Buffy flinched.

Faith grit her teeth and regretted her words. She didn't particularly like Spike and she wasn't entirely sure of Buffy's deal with him, but she couldn't deny that whatever it was, it was real. The really pissy thing is that Faith was now stuck wondering whether Buffy-n-Spike were more real than her-n-Robin. 

"Sorry. I just wanted to talk." Buffy said it so meekly in such a little girl voice that Faith could feel a bubble of guilt in the pit of her stomach in response.

"I snapped at you, remember? And no, I really didn't get into it with Robin. Just feeling a little hemmed in is all," Faith said, pulling hard from the water bottle as she rolled the tension out of her shoulders. 

Buffy looked around the training room, tragedy still etched in the fine lines around her eyes. "I think I understand," she said quietly. "I thought I was the only one."

"Those future people really know how to pile drive the shit out of you, you know?" Faith sympathized as she leaned against the basement wall.

Buffy's head twitched in her direction, a clear indication that Faith had seriously misread the other Slayer's meaning. "Yeah, that too," Buffy agreed slowly.

__

Slayers we may be, but we might as well be two different fucking species. On one level, she got Buffy better than anyone in the house. Hating someone with burning jealousy in your heart sometimes makes someone more familiar to you than your own face. Yet just as often Buffy remained an utter mystery to her, because she was pretty sure that if she had it half as good as ol' B, she'd be sitting in the poppy field with Dorothy laughing her ass off at the greatness of life. B seemed to always be moaning about all the bad bits and looking for trouble when maybe there was no trouble there.

"Yeah, well," Faith began, skin itching to get her the hell out of this suddenly-too-small basement, "the shit's been rising since we got here and no one knows how to cart it away."

"At least Robin's got a plan," Buffy said mildly. There was nothing in her tone to indicate if she thought this was a good or bad turn of events.

"Yeah. Always with the plans for tomorrow," Faith muttered, ignoring Buffy's questioning look. 

The blonde woman opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of what she was going to say. Faith felt the guilt bubble's return as something in Buffy's eyes slipped behind mental shields and her lips curved into a tight smile. 

"Speaking of tomorrow, Will and Xan have been in the library for hours armed with more coffee than a Starbuck's." Buffy's voice was too penny-bright compared to her just moments-before tone. "Will on caffeine equals Mickey Mouse on fast forward. Not a good combination." 

Faith held up her hands. "Don't look at me. I plan to give the library a wiiiiiide berth. I've got no interest in reading that fucking thing."

Buffy's expression turned sly, but Faith couldn't escape the suspicion that the other woman was putting up a front, acting the way other people thought she should act. "C'mon. Aren't you a little bit curious about who you'll be five years from now?"

"No."

"That was a fast answer." Cheerful Buffy was now in full force as she bustled around the basement to set up for her own training session. Faith vowed to get the hell out ASAP because meaningless quipping was sure to follow. 

"Don't even have to think about it. I don't much like Slayer dreams, and I like the idea of a roadmap to the future even less," Faith said as she gathered her things. "Less everyone knows the better, I figure."

That stopped Buffy cold, leaving her standing and staring at a basement wall. "But if you knew the future…" she began softly. She looked back at Faith. The faint lines around her eyes were back and the Buffy that was a few minutes ago returned in all her uncertain glory.

Faith desperately wanted to run away from this. She didn't need to see this. She didn't **want **to see this. Buffy was B, the sure one, the one who always figured she had a lock on the right, the **good **Slayer. What was looking at her was not the Buffy she didn't really understand.

This Buffy looked a little too much like someone she could recognize in a mirror.

Buffy stepped a half a step forward, her head tilted to the side, no expression on her face. "If you knew then, Faith. If you **knew **then what you know now, wouldn't you change it? Wouldn't you do anything you could to make it come out different? Wouldn't you re-write the ending?"

Faith backed slowly away until she felt the bottom step bite into the back of her ankles. "Ain't no such thing as a happily ever after B. Let the fairytale princess shit go already."

A puzzled frown line appeared between Buffy's eyes. "But what if there was? What if that journal could tell us how to save lives, how to avoid death? **Think **about that. What if you could sidestep all of it? Wouldn't you do it?"

Faith involuntarily stepped up the stairs, hairs on her arms standing at attention because the way Buffy was talking, the lost expression on her face, the ghosts of all those people that were dancing in the basement, was seriously freaking her shit out. "S-s-s-s-s-s-s-spell. On journal. Can't do it, remember?" Faith stumbled over the words.

Buffy shook her head like she was waking up and blinked rapidly. "You're right." She put on the California smile. "Of course you're right. Just thinking out loud is all." She twitched her nose and really **did **seem to forget about the freakiness of the conversation. "Besides, I have a feeling Ruda will tear us to pieces if we try." 

As Buffy turned to finish setting up while humming under her breath, Faith turned tail and fled up the stairs and through the first floor, not caring if anyone noticed. _Jesus Christ! She's flipped! She's gone bonkers!_ _What the fuck are we gonna **do**?_

When she finally landed in the kitchen, Faith stopped and forced herself to calm down. Buffy was doing the what if. No big. Shit. Wouldn't be normal if she wasn't. Hell, probably everyone in the house **but **her and Xander wanted to get a peak, but only because they didn't know anything at all. What little information her and Xander got was enough to kill that desire in both of them.

Besides, weren't the two of them doing just what Buffy suggested? Using what little they knew to avoid the future and re-write the ending? She can't blame Buffy for thinking it when she knew two people were actually **doing **it.

Now if Robin would just cooperate with the plan…not that he knew there was a plan. Faith blew a strand of drying hair out of her face in frustration. _Nope. Robin's not making it easy at all._

Last night was…strange. Despite his earlier teasing, Robin just wasn't interested in having sex, no matter how hard she made it for him to say no. That was a first. Hell, he didn't even crawl into bed until after he thought she was asleep. She lay there in the dark, eyes fixed on the wall, and couldn't help but notice that he didn't once try to touch her, like she'd suddenly become off-limits. 

She managed to get some sleep, but the strangeness of having a body in bed with her without the intimate contact kept jerking her awake. She was almost grateful when the alarm clock went off so she could finally get up and get her workout.

Robin didn't even try to delay her with what he called his "quickie good morning services." Yet another first.

__

I'm overreacting because everyone is taking a tour of the 'Twilight Zone' conducted by ol' Rod himself, Robin included, Faith thought as she drew a deep breath and left the kitchen. _I'm looking for trouble where there ain't none because I'm jumpy about this whole Catherine deal. He just probably had a lot on his mind and felt like he couldn't give me the special R sauce._

Of course that was it. 

She managed to convince herself that this was another hiccup in this weird thing called relationships by the time she reached the top of the stairs. She passed by the closed door to the library and halted, brought up short by the easy brother-and-sister vibes coming from behind the barricade. Hearing Willow's voice weaving through Xander's lower register as they talked sounded safe in a strange way, like nothing in the universe could change them so much that they'd never be able to talk just like this. She touched the wood and wondered what it was like to be that unguarded with another person.

__

Is it as easy as it looks, or does it take work and they just make it look easy? She knew back in SunnyD there was some trouble between the two of them, but she wasn't entirely sure what that was about. Probably some stupid, greasy kid stuff they got over within a month. Somehow she couldn't picture the two of them going longer than that without being best buds.

Xander must've said something funny, because she could hear Willow giggle.

Somehow, don't ask her how, but her hand was hovering over the doorknob. She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to be part of that cone of warmth, not caring that her very presence might burst the fragile moment.

"I wouldn't," said a voice in her ear.

Faith turned and saw Kennedy, towel around her neck, clothes still steaming sweaty from her morning run. 

"It's Xander-and-Willow time and you **don't **want to get in the middle of that," Kennedy said cheerfully. "Otherwise, you'll wind up scratching your head trying to figure out if they actually speak English."

"Aren't you jealous?" Faith was legitimately curious.

Kennedy gave her the what-are-you-nuts look. "Xander? Please. My girl is into girls right now. Now if his name was Alexandra, I'd be worried."

"I remember when she drove stick."

Kennedy shrugged. "She might again. Hell, **I **know bi when I see it, even if Willow is busy convincing herself that she's a women-only kinda gal."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "You're okay with that."

"Me 'n Willow are what you'd call casual," Kennedy gave Faith a half-grin. "We both pretty much know it's not forever, but we're gonna have fun while it lasts."

Faith gave the door a speculative glance, the beginning of a plan forming in her head. "What if Willow is the one in his future? Possible, right?"

Kennedy's chuckle killed the idea. "I think they're a little beyond that. Whatever they got ain't about sex. I think it's more about the childhood memories. I mean, where you gonna get that kind of connection, right? It's like Stephen King says, the best friends you're ever have are the ones you had when you were twelve, even if you stopped talking to them years ago."

"I wouldn't know," Faith said.

"Truth to tell, me neither," Kennedy admitted. When Faith gave her a look, the other Slayer shrugged. "But it's nice to see anyway. Still, anyone who dates one of 'em is gonna have to deal with the other like they would any other sib. That's just the way it is."

"Helps that you like the big galoot."

"Galoot?" Kennedy raised an eyebrow.

"Something my first Watcher used to say," Faith said uncomfortably. _Where did **that **come from? I haven't thought about her since I took my GED._

"You always miss your first," Kennedy said quietly.

The soft admission startled Faith. She never even **thought** that…of course Kennedy had a Watcher. She had the training before she hit Sunnydale. She knew that. It wasn't a big guess to figure out what happened: Kennedy's Watcher got killed either by the explosion in London that wiped out most of the Council or by Bringers gunning for her scalp.

The revelation put Kennedy's walking bad attitude back in the Dale in a whole new light. 

Kennedy gave Faith a tight smile. "I guess that's why I'm worried about the journal."

"Oh?" _Someone else who doesn't want to know the future. Guess there's more of us than I thought._

Kennedy looked down. "I like Xander. I do. But that journal? That's just proof that Giles is going to ask him to become one of **them** and maybe ask Willow, too."

"This is bad?" Faith asked.

"Depends on how you look at it," Kennedy said, placing a hand on the door. "Knowing the two of them? What it means is that someday one of them, maybe both, will be some Slayer's first."

Faith honestly didn't know what to say to that, mostly because she could see Kennedy was dead on.

Kennedy let her hand drop. "Dibs on the shower," she said. Then she turned and headed down the hall to the second set of back stairs up to the bedrooms, leaving Faith to watch her retreating back.

Xander's laughter on the other side of the door broke her out of her spell. She clenched her jaw tight and backed away. 

Something was drawing in her in, something as delicate and as binding as spider's silk. Every second she stood in that hall listening to Willow and Xander talk, every moment she took a chance at meeting yet another inmate of the house, another strand fell into place. She could **feel **it.

Jesus. Buffy. Kennedy. Willow. Xander. All of them taking her by surprise. All of them not acting according to her script. All of them trapping her in an 834-year-old spider's carefully spun web.

She wasn't going to **stand **for it.

__

Robin. Her mind flashed on the one person she figured could pull her out of this mess of connections forming around her.

She thundered down the hall and up the stairs, fleeing for the second time in less than 15 minutes away from a moment she couldn't understand. She burst into her room, fully intent on getting Robin to **talk **to her, to talk him into getting her away from this. There was no **way**…

Robin looked up from whatever he was writing on the desk, his expression the picture of pure misery.

Faith knew the moment his eyes met hers that Robin wasn't going to follow her script.

She felt the spider drop another strand into place.

"I've been thinking…" Robin began.

"Don't," Faith ordered. "Don't think."

"I can't help it," Robin helplessly shrugged.

Faith could feel the rictus grin on her face. "You're dumping me, aren't you? **You **are dumping **me**. I don't fucking **think **so."

"Hold up. Not dumping, just…well…I've been thinking…about us…and how we fit…and…"

Faith threw her hands up in the air. "Jesus! You sound like some bad television show. **Say **what you fucking mean. Don't give me that 'I've been thinking' crap. And if 'it's not you, it's me' comes anywhere **near **this conversation, I will rip your head off and beat you to death with it." 

Robin rubbed his forehead, a clear indication that she wasn't following his script either and that this conversation was falling apart faster than he planned. "Faith, please…just sit down. We really do need to talk about our futures."

Her heart thumped in her chest as she dropped on the edge of the bed. She could have read the situation completely wrong. He was talking future, not past tense. She was the one who jumped the gun.

But that **look**…

Robin remained in his chair and said, "Giles asked me to be a Watcher the other day."

Faith smiled, suddenly relieved. "Hey! That's great news!" She licked her lips and leaned over, smile turning into an appreciative leer. "And I know just how we can celebrate."

"Faith, please. Let me finish," Robin begged.

"What. Like you're going to say no."

"I thought about it."

Now that was a surprise. "You're kidding, right?"

"Well, thought about it after the fact," Robin amended. 

"I don't see you turning this down, babe." Faith relaxed. Robin just needed a little show of support from the cheering section. No wonder. Catherine's obvious dislike and the revelation of Xander's journal probably grabbed him by the shorthairs last night. "C'mon, you know you want to do it. I mean, please, you're not going to let…"

"I am going to do it," Robin said firmly. He suddenly slipped back into uncertainty. "But I realized that it might mean making a sacrifice on my part and…well, truth to tell, I really don't want to make it."

__

Someday he'll be some Slayer's first. Damn Kennedy for putting that thought in her head. She felt the overwhelming urge to hug him and keep the danger away.

Faith hugged herself instead. "I'm not even going to pretend that I don't know what you're talking about."

Robin let out a relieved smile. "Glad you see it that way."

"We've got a dangerous gig. We roll the dice on a pretty regular basis and sooner or later someone's coming up snake eyes," Faith assured him, hating that she was resorting to platitudes to drive away the spider. "We both know how fucking dangerous the world is out there and it doesn't help that we're lacking anything resembling resources to deal with all of it."

Robin nodded, pleased that Faith was getting his point.

"Hey, you and me? We can deal together, right?" Faith continued. "This don't change nothin'. You'll see, we just have to…"

Faith's voice died when she saw Robin's smile disappear.

"Oh boy," he said quietly.

Faith froze. "Why do I think you're not seeing what I'm saying?"

"Faith, look at the big picture…"

"Big picture," she repeated.

"I'm saying this wrong." Robin got out of his chair and landed on his knees at Faith's feet, looking intently up into her eyes. "I care for you. I care **very **deeply for you. But I just can't do it. Us. I can't do Us and meet the responsibilities that Giles asked me to shoulder. I can't do both. **We** can't do both."

"Why the hell not?" Faith sounded strangled as she felt spider silk wrapping around her throat.

"I don't want…Faith? Look around you. Take a good look."

"Sorry. I'm too busy looking at you, so why don't you paint me a picture?" 

Robin leaned back on his haunches, face troubled. "My mother's Watcher…he loved my mother beyond all reason, do you understand?"

"So you said," Faith frowned, "but I really don't see…"

"And as much as he loved her, he never said anything to her while she was alive…"

"…but told you after she died. I remember," Faith quietly finished.

"Do you know why?"

She didn't like where this was going. She didn't like it one bit.

Another strand of spider silk wrapped around her chest, forcing the air out of her lungs.

"Because he knew…he **knew** that if they…if…" Robin looked away. "You can't be a Watcher and be involved with your Slayer. He knew that."

"I'm not 'your' Slayer," Faith said between clenched teeth. "I'm not **anybody's **Slayer. Got it?"

"But now the Watchers are going to be responsible for multiple Slayers until we get a full compliment," Robin looked back at her, eyes full of hurt. "That might mean blurred lines on who's responsible for whom, especially when things get rocky. Just telling Giles or anyone else to always watch out for you isn't going **work **because it's not going to be that simple."

Faith felt her mouth go dry. "So that's it? Are you seriously saying that because you think you might have a shot at being the boss of me that this is it? You're fucking out of your tree. **No one **is the boss of me, so just get that thought…"

"Do you think this is easy?" Robin quietly asked. "I'm not **like **Buffy, or Xander, or Willow, or any of the others. I can't just so easily shrug off death and go on with my life. And I can't keep living under the cloud that someone I care about will most likely die too violently and too young. Maybe other people around here have calluses on their souls that lets them live with that constant threat, but I don't." 

Faith sat there dumbfounded. She just couldn't believe what Robin was saying. Did he even have fucking eyes? Shrug off death? What the **hell **was he talking about?

She had oceans of proof ringing a litany in her head, all of it recent examples. Kennedy with her sadness about Willow and Xander maybe being some Slayer's first. Rona in the kitchen devastated that her brother was getting shipped to a war zone. Buffy in the basement playing her tortured game of could you and would you. Xander arguing that they needed to keep track of the Slayers that didn't want to join the Cleveland Slayer Commune on the off chance they might run into trouble. Willow on the phone to Devon the second they found out that Potentials in the future could choose to accept being a Slayer.

All that proof dancing in her head, and Faith's tongue was so twisted in disbelief that she could barely get out, "You've got to be fucking** kidding **me!" 

"Think about this," Robin said gently. "Take Xander, for example. I heard that right after he was told Anya got killed in battle, he started making jokes about going to the mall."

__

834 years in the future, they know who Anya was and what she meant to him, the spider reminded her_._

"Jesus Christ, Robin. He was in fucking **shock**. He lost his home, the woman he loved, and every fucking thing else," Faith argued. "Both he and Buffy are practically walking wounded. Touch the Anya- and Spike-shaped nerves you can fucking see them crumble. You can't **convince **me that once it sunk in he didn't feel like he died with her."

"Maybe you're right," Robin allowed. "And if you are, do you **really **want to go through the same thing? No matter how much we care about each other…Faith, do you honestly believe that what we feel for each other isn't going to affect how we work? Is what we have bigger than the world?"

__

834 years in the future, they think you and Xander have the storybook romance to end all romances, the kind that shapes the world, the spider promised.

"You can't honestly believe that this is an either-or proposition," Faith pressed her point. "People fall for each other and the strangest shit can happen. It is possible! People can work through this crap if they want to. People can…"

"…I can't," Robin's body language backed away, his face falling apart under the strain. "Have you even heard what I said? People with lives like ours die violently and at a young age, for god's sake. I can't take the thought that you might be killed because of a plan I instigated. The guilt…"

834 years in the future, they don't know you tried to kill Xander more than four years ago, the spider snickered.

"Don't talk to me about guilt," Faith spat. "I **know **guilt. And if you'd feel guilty about me dyin' in the line of duty, than you better get ready for a whole lot of guilt because that shit should applied to every single Slayer in this house."

"But you're special. To me, you'll always be…" Robin reached out.

A strand of spider's silk jerked Faith's face away and she got to her feet.

__

834 years in the future, they don't know about anything about you and him at all, the spider laughed_._

"So who here is the heartless one? Who here is the one already admitting that they might be forced to throw away lives for the greater good?" Faith asked. 

She could feel the web catch her and hold her fast while 834 years of history bore down on arachnid legs.

__

This is not going to happen, she fiercely thought. _You are not going to win._

"Do you honestly believe," she hissed, "that breaking up is the way to **solve **your problem? You don't know **shit**. Do this, and your problems are just **beginning**."

Robin looked up at her. "Faith…what?"

"What if someone comes along and proves you wrong? What are you going to do **then**?" She could feel her hands clenching into fists. "It'll smack you upside your shiny skull that you put me and you through this for **nothing**."

Robin got to his feet and backed up a step. "I'm not wrong."

"Really?" Faith's eyes narrowed. "Get a peak in Xander's journal didjya? See some proof there that spelled out you were right?"

"Xander's not letting anyone but Willow and Giles near the journal, **you **know that," Robin said in confusion.

"I'm being what you'd call sarcastic," Faith snarled. She waved a hand at him in a desperate attempt to destroy the web tying them fast on opposite sides of the divide. "Do you expect me to fucking believe that you can just turn off what you feel just like that?" She illustrated the question with a snap of her fingers. "You honestly want me to buy that the second you crawl out of **my **bed that it's just fucking over? You can go on your merry way pretending that you-and-me never **happened**?"

834 years of history reached out a spider's leg and smacked her with a resounding slap.

"We will because we have to."

"What the fuck is this **we**?" Faith raged. "Last I checked this was just fucking **you**."

Robin held up his hands and backed for the door. "We can't talk like this. We can talk later when emotions aren't running as high."

****

"LATER?"

The enraged question was enough to get Robin out the door, leaving Faith to stare at the opening. 

834 years of history hissed a knowing giggle in her ear.

"Shut up!" she shouted at the spider as she strode after Robin with 834 years of history hot on her heels.

"So you think you're the only one who knows what's right?" she shouted at his back as she followed him through the maze of the house. "Where the fuck is **my **say in all of this?"

"Faith, you're making a…" 

"Scene? You bet your sweet **ass **I am," Faith growled as she followed into the kitchen. 

He stopped and turned around. "Do you love me?"

The question killed Faith's voice cold. 

"Do. You. Love. Me?" he repeated the question.

"Do you?" Faith asked back, her anger drained.

Robin shuffled. "I think you're very special and I think you and I…well…we could've made it work if…"

Jesus Fucking Christ. It wasn't like he didn't fucking **know **when he first slid into her cunt back in Sunnydale. Wasn't like the fact that she was a Slayer was a huge fucking state secret.

Faith started laughing. It had a dark, wobbly, nasty edge to it, but she couldn't help it as 834 years of history attached itself to her back and whispered evil things in her ear.

__

He's willing to throw it all way: the could've beens, the should've beens, the maybes, and what ifs on the basis of the fact that he cares_ too damn much about the likes of you, _the spider informed her_._ _He doesn't think you're worth the chance he'd have to take on you._

Faith could feel her eyes crunch and her teeth sharpen into fangs as she proceeded to tell Robin very loudly what exactly she thought of him, his idea, and the whole notion of him throwing it all away over a future he knew nothing about.

This got him shouting back about how she didn't understand, he was doing it to save **both **of them grief, and why doesn't she think about long-term consequences for once.

Things spun out of control and got a little blurry after that as words flew across the kitchen in a heated rush. Faith wasn't entirely sure what she said or even how the hell it popped out of her mouth, but Robin's jaw dropped in comical disbelief as he sputtered, "Let me get this straight, you've screwed around with **Xander**?"

The sound of someone thumping into a wall brought the raging argument to a screeching halt. 

While Robin looked in surprise over her shoulder, Faith turned around to find the source of the noise.

And right there, looking over his right shoulder with a bag of herbal tea in his hand, 834 years of history gulped, turned around, and didn't look in the least bit happy that he'd been noticed.

Faith shivered as she felt the spider sink its fangs into the back of her neck.

TBC…


	37. Blood in the Water

****

Part 37: Blood in the Water

What Xander heard as he approached the kitchen was the sounds of an argument. Did he say argument? He meant knock-down-drag-out, as in the kind of screaming match where people are eventually going to let loose with words that they'll never, ever be able to take back.

As someone who'd let his temper get the better of him on more than one occasion and had let loose with a few choice words of his own in the heat of the moment, he knew that the result wasn't going to be pretty. As someone who'd spent much of his childhood trapped in the middle of warring adults in the throes of such a death-match, he also knew better than to even try walking into the kitchen.

He hung in the hall, hesitating between walking away and telling Willow to live with the no-name aspirin from the medicine cabinet and taking his chances on sneaking into the kitchen and retrieving Willow's headache tea. He peeked in to get a feel for the situation and retreated. 

  
Faith and Robin were so into their drama that there was a very good chance they wouldn't even notice him. Great. Just great. Faith chose **now **to dynamite her relationship with Robin. Not that there was ever going to be a good time for it to happen, but things were so touch-and-go that, to be honest, he was kinda hoping Faith might use her relationship with Robin to build bridges between the ex-principal and himself since she seemed all-fired to keep the peace for her honey.

That, and he was hoping to cover her in crazy glue and give her a good hard shove in Robin's general direction. If that didn't get her stuck on Robin, the crazy glue bit was sure to piss her off enough to kill any hope of anything ever happening between them. As plans go it wasn't sparkling and failed to impress even him, but it was the best he had at the moment. 

__

Be honest, Operation Crazy Glue ranks right up there with Oz's plan to pummel the Mayor with hummus at graduation.

Xander grit his teeth in grim amusement. Now he's just delaying even making a decision at all. 

He looked down the hall as if he could see Willow moaning her way through a stress-and-eye-strain headache. He could also imagine Willow's negatory reaction to proffered pills. Lately, his bud had gotten a little eccentric about the joys of Western medicine and insisted that her nutso herbal concoctions were a much healthier way in dealing with minor aches and pains.

As for him? He was in the "painkillers yay!" set, so he had a pretty hard time going along with Wills on this one. Still, he really wasn't in the mood to deal with the grumpy Willow that would result if he decided to push his dependence on pills that come in a bottle.

He took a deep breath. Right. Willow-need won out over Xander-need to keep the hell away. Just overlay the yelling with those "wah-wah-wah-wahs" that all adults in a _Peanuts_ cartoon used, keep himself as small as possible, and he wouldn't even register.

Let it never be said that his parents didn't teach him **some **important survival skills.

Xander ghosted into the kitchen, fighting to keep his muscles and limbs as loose as possible. The second he tensed up, Robin and Faith would sense it with the unerring instinct of adults who know there's an unwanted witness and might, just might, turn on him since he offered a fresh target for their anger. Keep the head down. Don't look at them. Hope they don't start throwing things. Make sure there's nothing in the way that could trip him up because that would be Bad. 

Battling adults can sense fear and they'll tear into you like a pack of wild hyenas.

__

Shit. Shouldn't've thought about the hyenas. **Definitely **the wrong animal to think about. It'll get you all tense and then it's lights out for Xander.

He stopped at the cabinet, keeping the "wah-wah-wah-wah" overlay soundtrack firmly in his ears and eased open the cabinet door. This was the dangerous part. Moving objects around was 50-50 since it gave distracted people a better shot at seeing you. He didn't bother to wait and see if anyone noticed. His hand snaked in and closed around a bag.

Success! Right on the first try! Amazing considering he was all one-eyed and not great with the close-up depth perception. One bag of Willow's icky headache tea complete with iffy peppermint flavor ready for serving was clutched in his sweaty little palm. He'll just steal Giles's hotpot to make hot water and he can just pretend he was never here. 

He eased the door closed and, keeping as small as possible, slid his way to exit stage right.

He was almost there. Aaaaaaalmost there…

"…you've screwed around with **Xander**?"

The shouted question broke his concentration and he ran smack against the wall.

The argument now in progress took a break for a few important announcements from the sponsors.

__

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

The flight instinct was still firmly intact, but Xander managed to resist long enough to turn around and face two pairs of glaring eyes.

He could feel the unspoken words slashing at him in the muffled silence.

"About that…" Xander began even as his brain screamed at him to just run. "There's a serious misunderstanding because Faith decided to play mind games with Tikri. It's not true. Nope. No way. No one told **me **about sex-for-alls, not that I'd get involved with that because that kind of kink is a little **too **kink for me. And believe me I know kink. Wait. Didn't mean to say that. What I mean is, we're not screwing. Around. Not screwing around, I mean. Because Faith and me aren't…I mean, she scares me…wait, I don't mean that. What I mean is, not big on…what I'm trying to say is…I don't know what I'm trying to say…"

__

Well look at that, it **speaks**. Jessica, think your goddamn son has an off switch? Because if he doesn't shut the fuck up, I'm going to teach him to like the quiet.

"What Xander's trying to say is that we're not screwing around **now**," Faith interrupted the desperate babble with a vicious whip in her voice.

Xander began sliding along the wall to the door, his brain reading more into Faith's statement than was really there because he got a view of the future, thanks to Catherine, that frankly scared the hell out of him. Faith has got to know that she's playing with fire by pretending her one-night stand with him meant anything to her at all. 

"Not that we ever did. Nope," and could he **please **shut up now? "Think about this. Me and Faith? Never happen. Never will happen so you've got no worries. From me, I mean. We've got no connection. Never did, never will. At all."

Faith's angry gaze swung to him full bore and he could **swear **he saw something he couldn't quite name behind the eyes. "See? Now that's Xander for you. A **real **gentleman," Xander cringed at the sarcasm in her voice. "No kissing-and-telling for Alexander the Great. At least not **now**. Too bad it wasn't like that back in the day, hunh?"

__

Don't let yourself get pulled in. Don't let yourself get pulled in. Don't let yourself get pulled in…

"I thought we agreed that we don't air dirty laundry in public," Robin said with a spring-coiled voice. "And here you not only shoving it in my face in public, but dragging a bystander into the middle of it."

"Dirty laundry?" Faith looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. "About that, Mr.-I'm-Not-Exactly-A-Virgin. You had to figure with my wild ways in the bad ol' days that Xander at least presented a tempting target. Don't let the good boy act fool you. He **jumped **at me like any straight guy would." Here her eyes swung back to him with their nameless anger. "He's no different than anyone else." 

What he should be doing is escaping. Yet he's frozen in this car wreck of a fight and staring at the mess with wide-eyed wonder. Funny how those ol' instincts just took over at the worst possible time as Robin continued to glare out his fury between himself and Faith.

"Look, Robin," his voice sounded like a creak while his mind screamed _Deny Everything_, "you've got it wrong. Whatever it is you're thinking you've **really **got this wrong. Nothing's ever, and I mean **ever**, happened between me and Faith. At all. I know Faith, but I don't **know **know Faith. Biblically, I mean. Just take a deep breath and count to ten and **think **about this." 

So much for staying out of it.

"Really? Think you've got any right to say **anything **about what's going on between Faith and I?" Robin now fixed on him, a sure sign that Xander had just offered himself up as the sacrificial lamb in this little bloodletting. 

"Now, now, dear," Faith's angry glare had not wavered from Xander, "Xander's memory is a little bit faulty. Then again, he **was **my first virgin. Wait. Make that my only virgin. What can I say? It's a special time in a young girl's life, right? Especially when it really **is **just skin."

Xander fought to keep his eyes open but couldn't quite stifle the urge to shrink. Faith was not helping him at all here. She's too angry at Robin over god knows what and he's just another weapon in this battle. He figured between Robin and Faith there wouldn't be a whole lot left of him when this was over. The fact that Robin didn't like him was given and with the skin comment, Xander just realized what he'd said to make Faith want a pound of flesh.

__

You know, considering that she tried to, oh, **kill you** and has never, ever once so much as given you anything resembling an apology, why the hell should **she **be hurt? an inner angry voice popped up. He quickly smothered it and forced his face into an idiot Jeb blank look. The absolute last thing he needed was to give either Faith or Robin an excuse to use their fists.

"You must love that, right?" Robin spat. "The two of you sharing the secret of this little special event? Well, now I know why you're always defending him."

__

She does? Now he's idiot Jeb because he's surprised.

His demeanor must've registered with Faith because something in her eyes seemed to soften into a puzzled expression as she looked at him. "I'm not always defending him," she said without heat. "Just when he's right."

"Which seems to be all the time these days," Robin rounded on Faith.

Yay! The argument was now shifting back to the main combatants. Collateral damage to himself? Well, everything, but he'll be able to repress. Maybe. Just keep the expression neutral and convince his feet to start sliding for the door he's home free. 

This was a big ol' sign that Catherine totally got the bit about him-and-Faith completely wrong because after seeing this there is no way in hell…

Something resembling understanding clicked in Faith's expression and Xander once again froze a step away from the door. "This isn't about Xander. This is about you and me," she said absently keeping her eyes on the innocent victim. 

"**What **is about you and me?" Robin asked. "Are you **ever **going to be honest about **anything** when we talk?"

"Xander, I'm a fucking idiot," Faith gently said without paying attention. 

The apology hinted at in the statement paired with the odd expression as she said it somehow hurt him the most. 

Shake it off. She did it to get back at Robin. Surprise, surprise, he was just a convenient way to do it. Put up the shields. Deal later. After all, he was just **begging **for it, wasn't he? 

He managed a nod.

As he slipped away from the room under Faith's watchful gaze and Robin's angry glare, he hoped Willow wouldn't notice the taste of blood in her tea. 

TBC…


	38. The Rimmer Directive on Time Travel

****

Part 38: The Rimmer Directive on Time Travel

Willow looked up from rubbing her temples when Xander forced himself to walk back into the empty library. She watched him cross the room before asking, "What happened?"

"Got your tea?"

"What else?"

Xander wondered when the hell Willow got her long-disused Xander-shaped radar fixed. He doesn't remember her being **this **sensitive to his moods since senior year, and even then it was a pretty selective thing.

"Just walked into the teeth of Faith and Robin fighting. No big."

Willow shook her head. "Again?"

Well that was another surprise. "Sheesh. You mean this happens **all** the time?"

Willow chuckled. "Amazing. You can rattle off in detail-y scariness about everyone in the house, but you can't see that Faith-and-Robin's _Casablanca_ romance is about to go blow-uppy." 

"But they'll always have Sunnydale, so that kinda fits," Xander quipped. Amazing how a vaguely reasonable conversation made him feel better. "I don't really want to know."

"Because you once went momentarily insane, too?" Willow asked. She winced. "Sorry. That sounded like I'm being all accusatory, and nasty, and mean, especially when I have a lack of room to be talking on the Xander kissage and nearly killing front, so maybe I should sheathe claws and do the not talking thing right now."

He nodded numbly and brought the water-filled hotpot over to an outlet and plugged it in. As he began spooning tea into the cup, he silently willed Willow to just drop the subject.

"Still, kinda funny you don't see it, 'specially because me and Buffy have been talking about it for weeks. Faith goes into beat-down on a demons afterwards and Buffy's kinda worried that she'll get distracted when she should be paying more attention," Willow continued with the air of someone with juicy gossip. 

"I thought I mentioned something about how I'm soooooo not going there."

"Maybe I'm kinda hoping you'll work the hoodoo that you do so well," Willow said. 

"Wills, I don't do magic."

"Yeah, but listening is a kind of magic, especially when people need to talk," Willow rejoined with the compliment as she watched him pour the water over her herbs. 

"Not like I do anything else around here." He carefully carried the tea to her waiting hands. "I'm not even managing on the research front with this stupid journal and just how sucky is that? I'm the guy who wrote it and I can't figure it out."

"Would help if he gave us directions to the arrow, sorry, map book," Willow giggled. "Hey, if I tell you **now**, think you'll remember to do it in 2008?"

"Unless you told me **before **and I forgot to do it in 2008, so I'm not sure that helps Wills."

"The Temporal Prime Directive must be followed to the letter. As Rimmer said, 'It has happened; it will be happening; it has will be happening for sure. Your bucket's been kicked baby.'" Willow agreed.

"Wait! Whoa! There's no bucket-kicking here!" Xander waved his hands. He stopped and thought about the lovely war zone he'd just escaped. "Then again, bucket-kicking? Mucho preferable to the alternative."

Concern-face was back with a vengeance. "Wow, the fact that someday you'll be a father is really bothering you, isn't it?" Willow asked. "Is it because of Anya?"

"No."

"Xander, it's okay that someday you'll fall in love again."

"Assuming love is involved at all, which I kinda doubt."

"But…" Willow began.

"Look, just accept that I might know something I can't tell," Xander said glumly. "Better, let's just accept that it's something I don't **want **to believe, and given our new best pals' track record in the historical accuracy sweepstakes, I think the odds are very seriously on my side for them being wrong and me being right."

Willow studied him. He must've been wearing his version of resolve-face because she let it go with a sigh. Xander relaxed as she took a sip of her tea. He ducked when he saw her almost throw it across the room. "What the hell **happened**?" she demanded.

"Wills, look, I told you that I'm not going to tell you anyth…"

"I'm not talking about **that**." Willow was in full scowl face. "When you got the tea! Your pain is all over it." 

Xander froze. "Isn't reading people against their will against the rules or something?"

Willow blinked back the suspicious water in her eyes. "I didn't **mean **to. I mean, it's not like I can read auras without crystal help, but…but…I'm kinda connected to nature and natural things, not all of them on the good side, true, but herbs count and I can't just shut it off. Are you okay?"

"If you're connected to nature, why can't you just reach out and find the Slayers?" Xander asked.

"I'm not so good with the connecting with people especially when I don't know who I'm looking for. And stop being avoid-y. Who hurt you? Was it Robin? I'll…"

"Look, I **told **you. I walked in during a fight. You're probably picking something up from that."

"Xander…"

"Let. It. Go."

Willow regarded him as he fought to keep his body from fidgeting. "Okay. Fine. I'll leave it. For now. But don't think we're not going to talk, mister. That tea's got a mix of old and new pain in it and it's definitely yours and no one else's."

"Sorry," Xander muttered.

That earned him one Willow-sized hug. "Don't be. You're not at fault, no matter what you think. You should've just gone with the aspirin. I **would **have understood if you told me that you didn't want to get in the middle of a fight, okay?"

Xander buried his nose in her hair and gave her a bone-crushing hug back. "Okay," he agreed.

"Now that we've got that settled, I'll go raid the medicine cabinet," Willow's muffled voice said. "Stay here and just relax. Don't let it get to you. We'll figure it out."

Willow pulled away, blessed him with a peck on the cheek, and left.

Xander dropped heavily into the chair in front of the laptop and snatched the journal in a desperate attempt to pretend the last fifteen minutes never happened. _Hey me, thank you for being not very clear. Think you could've at least **hinted **that you were looking for the grail when you went to Moscow? Because it kinda came from out of…_

"Nowhere," Xander said aloud. 

He flipped back to where the book was locked and reread the beginning in its not-sounding-like-Xander weirdness. 

"'Could be worse, at least we're in the capital…'" Xander's voice trailed off with a frown. "Blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah. This is all about Moscow, for heaven's sake. Just as we get into the Slayer or Slayers…and hey, look, no mention of this grail at all."

Didn't mean anything. Finding the grail might've been a secondary objective. The only reason why **he's **focused on it is because he's got a group of antsy time travelers who really, really want it.

He flipped the page and quickly reread the description of Catherine's crew. No matter how hard he tried to find a discrepancy, it matched up perfectly, as in frame it on the wall and call it a family portrait. He frowned, flipping the page back and forth. They came out of nowhere, too.

Here he is blabbing on and on about **Moscow** for two pages, including excruciating detail that caused his eyes to glaze over, full of opinions and guesses and running commentary. He stops in the middle of a **sentence **before even naming the two candidates when Catherine's group is introduced.

He flipped the page a few times when it hit him. _Hey, wait a minute. Moscow gets all this ink, but time travelers get one page? And not even a full page at that? No thoughts about meeting people from the future? Now is it just me, or is that just wrong?_

Unless, and this is a possibility, Xander version 2008 just assumed that his dedicated readers would know what he was talking about and didn't bother to hit the details. He sped out of the library and ran smack dab into J'Nal with three Slayers in tow. "Hey, question," he grabbed the witch's arm.

J'Nal looked down for a horrified second at the offending touch before looking up. "Yes?" the question sounded strained.

"In all your research-y time over the hop-skip-and-a-jump to Moscow 2008, was there anything at all from anyone that said that you landed wrong on the first try?"

"You know the answer to that is no," J'Nal looked puzzled. "We can't re-insert ourselves a second time in the timeline. We explained that."

"Okay," Xander wasn't entirely sure about the tickling in the back of his brain. "What about other time travelers showing up in Cleveland 2003?"

"As I recall, no." Since J'Nal answered right away, that was a definite no.

"Here's another one," Xander began, ignoring J'Nal's cringe. "Aside from Catherine's ol' family journal, was there **anyone **who ever said anything about you guys popping up in Moscow?"

"No one else was there except you and Faith," J'Nal pointed out.

__

Don't look directly at this thought. You might scare it away. "Did Faith keep a journal? What am I asking? The answer's probably…"

"Yes."

"Hunh." Xander let J'Nal go to scratch his head. "Okay, what did she say about it?"

J'Nal shrugged. "Her entry, singular, about Moscow was rather light. She merely made reference that for details people should read your words since she was tied up with the new Slayer."

"Oh. Did that happen often? Faith deferring to me in her journal?"

J'Nal's forehead crunched. "I don't understand."

"Forget it," Xander said absently. "Wait! Something else. You figure Faith or I would've filed a report about meeting you guys in Moscow, right? Which meant that someone else would've mentioned it? I mean, c'mon, Giles isn't going to let that go without **some **comment in his journal."

"Your journal is the only source of information, which is why the whole business was puzzling until…"

"Until your Great Darkness started eating planets and your people got desperate. Gotchya," Xander nodded. "See, something here I don't buy. I'm going to **not **say something to at least Wills or Giles?"

"Unless we gave you strict warnings not to tell anyone for fear of polluting the timeline," J'Nal pointed out.

Xander winced. "Right. You're probably right."

"Are you finished interrogating me?" J'Nal didn't **quite **jitter, so it's a wonder the witch didn't start running down the hall the second Xander let him go.

"Yeah. Thanks," he responded absently as he returned to the library. He stopped at the table, staring at down at the book with an unseeing eye. _Wait, wait. That makes no sense either. Swear a guy not to tell **anyone** to the point that no one supposedly knows about the Ghosts of Christmases Future, but record the whole thing in a journal that's **meant **to be read?_

"Either I forgot what secret means or…" Xander began. Another snatch at the journal and he's flipping pages again, this time to the "directions" to find the grail.

__

As it so happens, we have the screaming yellow Arrow that points the way to the Grail. The Arrow is of Cleveland origin. 

The way it pointed lead us thus:

We had to start near a stadium that was Brown. We traveled West until we hit the Lakeside. Oddly enough, this landed us in Canada, but we kept going until we felt Superior. That done, we turned East on the first Street until we came to an Erie Cemetery. We found the entrance to the underground caverns by the grace of Angel Vaslik's wing. As the caverns were damp, Summer was the only thing that could only warm us, so we followed the path that would take us there. The maze took us right to it.

He flipped through the pages. Almost nothing on the grail. Catherine and pals show, say they're looking for it, explain it's an important focus for major-league protective magic, its sole purpose is to roll back the Great Darkness that brings the terror of the thralls…and utterly useless to the people of the present day because no one knows how to use it.

And he and Faith turn it over. End of story.

__

This is wrong. This is an opera of wrong. 

The grail, he noticed, didn't even get half-a-page. 

There was nothing in this entry indicating what **he **thought about this pretty unbelievable story. Hell, he had more questions about it when he was half-asleep earlier this week, so…

Now he's really bothered, especially since the grail mystery was **still **a mystery even though he had all the information in front of him in black-and-white and in English. 

He flipped back to the directions.

He tapped his finger under "Arrow." This is the first and only time said Arrow was mentioned. Why didn't someone, say, oh, him, mention dragging the thing to Moscow? Unless there was some mention of it in the pages he didn't see, but still…

And considering that he was willing to bet his remaining eye that the Arrow in question was a book of street maps…

He ran his finger down to "Erie Cemetery." Hunh, he just realized that he misspelled eerie and cemetery is…

"Capitalized?" he asked aloud.

Tickling turned into full-on screaming. _Hold on. Erie is **not **misspelled, it's…_

"No way. Nofuckingway," Xander yelled as he dove for the computer.

TBC…


	39. Dah Ba Dee Dah Ba Di

****

A.N.: Many apologies for not updating in a bit. RL involving a new job, a car accident, a new car, a move, and a catastrophic computer crash unavoidably delayed the update.

In addition, I'll be posting new parts **first **to my LiveJournal. You'll find the link there under my personal information. Feel free to friend me if you're already there. 

****

Part 39: Dah Ba Dee Dah Ba Di

"Xander?" God knows where Willow came from because she's watching him call up the city's official Web page and mumble as he ran his finger underneath the lines, stopping just long enough to make note of another capitalized word, and then navigate around the interactive city map.

"Did you find the Arrow?" Willow hopefully asked. "You figured it out?"

Xander's path ended right where he suspected it would: Erie Street Cemetery. 

__

Okay, overreaction here. Maybe this isn't so much how to get to the grail because everyone says that it's in Moscow. Everyone, that is, if you call Xander 2008 and Future Space People "everyone." _So maybe this is where our map is?_

Why didn't he think so?

"Wills," Xander said quietly. "I need you break the spell lock on that journal."

"What? Why?"

Xander threw the book a fearful look. "Honestly? I'm not sure."

"But…"

"Do it." 

She continued to hesitate, no doubt thinking of Temporal Prime Directives, Xander-style. 

"It's important," he added.

Whether it was the tone of his voice or the look on his face, Xander wasn't sure, but Willow immediately got down to work. While Willow did **her **hoodoo, which involved mucho research in her computerized spell database, he was busy running around the house fetching spell ingredients as she asked for them.

God knows how many times he dashed out of the library to grab supplies for yet another attempt or how many spells she cast. All he knew was that he felt like he'd run a marathon before two hours was up. 

At the end of two hours, Willow slumped in a chair, her headache now doubled in intensity because of the magical effort, and the book still firmly locked. "One more try and this is **it,"** she growled.

"Fair enough," Xander nodded. 

"Right," Willow huffed. She began with the Latin chant, threw a handful of leafy green things at the book, waved stick incense that smelled like patchouli over the business, and dropped a crystal on the leather cover.

Nothing happened.

"Well, we tried," Xander shrugged.

Which was apparently the cue for the book to begin vibrating and spewing smoke.

"What the…" Willow began.

"If that book catches on fire we are sooooo very dead," Xander said as he slowly backed away.

"Correction, **I'm **dead," Willow yelped as she stepped forward to try and stop the book from exploding.

The book apparently decided that it wasn't going down without a fight because it flew off the table, smacked Willow in the chest, and skidded across the floor, pages waving merrily at them as it tried to make its escape.

Good thing a wall was in the way to impede its progress, because Xander figured that losing the book would've been second only to burning the book if Catherine wanted to make a case for justified Willow-cide.

Willow was hacking and coughing as thick white smoke swirled around her, muttering vague threats against the very obviously evil witch that cast the spell on the book. 

"I guess you're okay then," Xander remarked as he reached into the obscuring, Willow-shaped fog.

"I think I've been bruised."

He hauled her out and began, "Yeah, well…" and stopped, clamping his jaw shut as his eyes grew as large as an anime cartoon.

Willow looked up at him. "What?"

Both of Xander's hands flew up to his mouth and he began making hacking sounds. "Are you **sure** you're okay?" he sputtered.

Willow scrunched her face and rubbed the center of her chest. "I've been assaulted by a book, but nothing's broken."

Hands turned to fists as teeth bit down on knuckles. "B-b-b-b-but y-y-y-y-y-y-y-you're, ummmm, heh, not f-f-f-f-f-feel…I mean, oooooo-k-k-k-k-kay?"

Willow's eyes narrowed, "Yes, I'm just fine," she said in a throaty growl.

Which pushed Xander right over the edge. "BWWWWWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…"

"What?" Willow asked.

Xander dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach as he howled, tears streaming down his face, lungs struggling to draw in enough air to keep his higher brain functions working.

"WHAT?"

"Y-y-you've b-b-b-been th-th-th-thinking y-y-y-you…HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Xander knew he was annoying Willow to no end, but he couldn't help it. "Heeehehehehehe, ummmmmm, wantanewlook?" Xander was off again on into uncontrollable laughter land.

Willow's forehead wrinkled in confusion as she looked down and saw that her hands were…**"BLUE!" **She ran behind the empty Xander-built bookshelves to the tiny bathroom to check herself in the mirror. 

As Xander forced himself under control using an effort that would make He-Man, Master of the Universe proud, he could hear Willow hyperventilating in squeaky bursts.

"I'm blue! I'm **blue**! **I'm **blue! **I'm blue!**"

"You're **navy **blue," Xander managed to wheeze out of his abused lungs as he got to his feet.

"Not funny mister!" Willow stormed back into the library. "When I said I was thinking of a new look, I was talking about a **haircut!**" she raged at him. She held her blue hands in front of her blue face. "Not change **color!**"

"Are you **all **blue?" Xander was staring very hard at the ground to avoid looking at her. If he looked at her…

Willow pawed at her clothes, peaking down her sweater, looking down her sleeves, squeaky hyperventilation now hitting a register that would make a Wolfy Oz howl in protest. "I've been smurfed!"

"Smurfs aren't that blue." He bit his lips so hard that he knew he was going to leave a bruise.

"I can't believe this! How am I going to explain this?"

"It could be worse."

"Worse? HOW CAN IT BE WORSE?"

"Your hair could be blue, too. At least it's still red." Xander took a chance, saw her eyes narrowing, blue-blue face scrunching in frustration under her red widow's peak over his lack of empathy, and immediately looked away because he knew he'd just make her even angrier by again collapsing into hysterics. Even though he knew he was about to say something **really **evil, he simply couldn't resist. "Are you sure **all **your hair is still red?"

****

"XANDER!"

"Would you like me to get Kennedy so she can check?"

****

"XANDER!"

"That would be a no, then."

She marched over to him, stabbing a blue finger into his chest with such force that Xander had to step back with each jab. "This," poke, "is," poke, "all," poke, "your," poke, "fault!" poke-poke-poke-poke-poke…

"Now that I think about it, you look more like Veruca Salt."

"AAAARGGHHHH!" Willow threw herself in a chair and dropped her head in her hands.

Xander fought to keep his face straight. "At least you feel okay, that's the important…"

There was a distinctive sniff of the 'I'm going to cry' variety.

"Oh, wow. Hey. I'm sorry," Xander uncomfortably shuffled. "You'll be able to fix it, right?"

Willow made a weepy sound.

Guilt now finally kicking in, Xander crossed over to Willow in three steps, kneeled down, and engulfed her in a hug.

"What am I going to do?" The question was rendered in a mix of sniff, sob, more than a few tears, and a certain amount of snot.

__

Willow. Crying. Must-Comfort-Willow. Programming. Engaged. "We'll figure it out," Xander soothed, feeling like the ultimate ass as he patted her back. 

"When?" Willow sobbed into his ear.

Xander winced as Willow gave a loud sniff that seemed to echo through his head. "Ummmm, soon? I hope?"

This resulted in a wail as Willow hugged him tight.

"Say, we'll get Giles right on this, hunh?" Xander said as he delicately disengaged from the bone-crushing hold. "Plus, I'll get Buffy and she'll figure something out make-up wise to cover up…"

"Not funny," Willow cried.

Xander shoved his hands in his pockets as his posture folded in on itself. "Not trying to be. Look, let me go get Giles, okay?"

He was rewarded with the sight of Willow wiping at her eyes and working herself up into a wounded-but-brave face.

"Stay right here. I'll be right back." As Xander turned, he caught sight of the book, freed pages sticking straight up in an effort to remind him why Willow got whammied in the first place. Xander glared at it. _Great. Willow's not going to be the one who has to deal with the classic you-are-an-idiot looks from Giles. **I **will. Right. Like **that's **ever going to change because we all know that I'm the dumb…_

His mind froze in its tracks as he realized something: the book was opened at a spot that was significantly closer to the back cover. Xander's eyes widened. Willow did it! The newly freed pages fluttered tantalizingly as they stuck up out of the open book. "Wills…" he began.

"What?" the witch sniffed as she looked sadly down at her bright blue hands.

"Look. The journal."

Willow's gaze followed the line of his pointed finger to the floor. Her eyes grew large as saucers when she saw the temptation dancing in front of her eyes, her new skin color momentarily forgotten.

The pair remained frozen a few moments before they both dove for the book. Since Xander had a head start and was taller, his hand reached it first. He snatched it from under Willow's frustrated nose, stuck his tongue out for good measure, and turned away giggling like a loon.

"Let me see! Let me see!" Willow petulantly ordered as she hopped up and down behind his twisting back. "I got blued for this, so I think…"

"Nunh-unh. **I **wrote it. It's **my **book."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeez!"

Xander wildly grinned as he looked over his right shoulder. The Willow-sized puppy dog eyes in that blue face was too much and he burst out laughing again. Between stomach-killing guffaws, he managed to get out, "Since you're so cute, I'll let you look."

Puppy Willow immediately turned into Kid-in-a-Candy-Shop Willow as she excitedly clapped her hands. "Goody!"

He put the book down on the table and tried to free a few more pages from the spell lock, but no dice. He wasn't as irritated as he should've been since there **were **a handful of new pages to look it. His grin widened fit to split his face. Messy handwriting in full force? Check. Careless grammar? Check. Writing style that actually sounded like him? Check, check, oh thank god, check.

This was more like it.

Willow whistled from her position leaning against his right shoulder. "Wow. We put one up on **him **didn't we?"

"Oh, yeah." There it was. A list that gave him the future updates.

__

Michael's coming in next week so Rona Lisa is all sorts of excited especially since he's a real candidate for becoming a Watcher. Robin has no objections because of his military training, as for me I just like the guy since he gets the difference between cracking the whip and working with people. It's trial run right now, see how he deals but it's looking good.

Giles is still on the ol honeymoon. Sly dog. OK, not too sure about the half-your-age thing but Zoe's a sweet woman with a spine of steel (big surprise since she's pretty much taken all of us in stride.) Should be interesting dealing with Rupert Giles, Family Man.

Buffy checked in from San Fran. The new Slayer there isn't exactly being accepting of destiny and duty. Normally Buffy'd just walk away except there's that damn prophecy Robin unearthed so she's got to stick around to make sure she doesn't get all kinds of killed. 

Hunh. Who'd of thunk. Robin and Buffy are now a professional double act. Color me surprised. Given Buffy's romantic history, I'm just glad the two of them are keeping it professional. Not sure how we'd deal with Robin turning into bloody chunks, or evil, or going insane, or picking up a spare soul he doesn't need, or becoming gay…sooo not going there.

Willow's still in Devon with the Coven working on her Super Sekrit longterm project, which she's calling "Project Choices." She's pretty convinced it won't pay off for years. Willow. Patience. Hunh. Who knew? Anyway, not sure how much in a hurry she is to get back especially since I smell definite romance in the air with her.

Room's getting tight around the Mother House. Robin's spec'ing some property outside the city limits to set up a boarding school—which would include real classes like Math and classes in How To Kick Demon Ass 101—since he feels some of the girls would benefit from a well-rounded Slayer curriculum. At least I convinced him to let the girls who want to go to public school to at least have a choice in where they want to get their real world education. 

Kennedy's dad is financing the boarding school and expansion of our living quarters with an endowment. Hey! Check us out! We're going nonprofit! Right. Like we weren't nonprofit before. Only now we won't have to pay the government when we buy that shiny new axe.

Andrew's still doing whatever he's doing in L.A. Thank god. Last I heard he'd opened a gourmet restaurant which is naturally a front ala Willie's. He insists that he's working for the Superteams (his words, definitely not mine) and that he provides a valuable service by sourcing out his info. Yeah. Right. I'm sure Angel is just psyched that he's got a budget line just for Andrew's "help."

Speaking of Angel. He and…nah…won't get into it. Never know who might be reading right? And some information might prove tragic if it fell into the wrong hands before someone was ready to hear it. 

You follow what I'm writing Junior?

"Son of a bitch," Xander said quietly.

"Junior?" Willow asked.

"I think he knows some Xander between me and him was going to read this entry."

"Probably your few-months-earlier 2008 self, right? Look at the date. It's February 2009." 

"Look at this," he pointed at the series of squiggles at the bottom of the page. 

"Doodles?"

"Klingon."

Willow digested that a moment. "You're joking."

Xander frowned and concentrated. His Klingon was very, very rusty, which meant he was half-a-step away from giving up his membership card into the Trekkie Geek Club. He knew if he dragged Andrew in on the translation, he'd get something within five seconds, but there was no way in hell he was going to go there.

He tapped his fingers under the writing as he puzzled out the meaning.

"Xander?" Willow prompted.

"That bastard. That miserable, mean-spirited, son of a bitch," Xander bit as the squiggles reformed in his mind to make actual words.

"What does it say?"

"See this bit in English?" Xander asked. "**He **says that everything on this list is true **except **one thing. But he's willing to cop to one gimme: Michael makes it home a-okay and he really is up for Watcher."

"Well, that's good, right?" Willow asked. When Xander gave her a hooded look, she added, "About Rona's brother. Not about…um…would you really do that to yourself?"

"Also says he ain't giving any real information about me because, and I quote, 'that would be cheating.'" Xander's eye continued to scan the Klingon text as if he couldn't believe what he was reading. "And he keeps calling me **Junior**!"

"What's he supposed to call you?"

"How about not Junior?"

"I think you're over…"

"Oh, shit."

Willow cringed. "Now what?"

"He also says this: 'Funny how it all comes down to the backyard, right? But then, you **already** knew that when you booted up the city's homepage and checked the directions to you-know-what. Hey Smeghead, you've heard about Pandora's Box, right? Then again, maybe not because you're just not really up on mythology.' I don't believe this! I'm insulting my own intelligence!"

"Unh, Xander? Do you know about Pandora's…"

"Don't start."

Willow held her hands up as a gesture of peace. "Just checking."

"Check this out: 'You really didn't need to do this, but you did it anyway. So don't bother trying to free more pages, unless Wills wants tentacles to go with her blue skin.'"

"Remind me to kill you in 2008," Willow squeaked.

"'And tell Willow she'd have to kill both you and herself for our prank, especially since she cooked up the spell,'" Xander read from the book right on cue. "Am I allowed to hate this guy?"

"I'm pretty sure that means you need therapy if you do that," Willow said.

"Well, here's some good news. He was oh-so-kind enough to give us a counter-spell."

"On second thought, I love him. I want to have his babies. When you hit 2008, get ready for some Willow loving, complete with edible underwear, chocolate body paints, and a rip-away maid's uniform."

Xander gave Willow a disbelieving horrified look.

"Little thick?" Willow asked.

"I'm thinking Kennedy is **really **bad for you," he replied as he desperately tried to get the image Willow planted in his brain to go away. "Whatever happened to the Willow who thought playing doctor involved pretending to diagnose me with real diseases?" 

"She had sex."

"Oh. Right," Xander numbly replied.

"Hey! I'm not the only one who's changed," Willow huffed. "Seems to **me **that someone learned to plan for all eventualities. I can't **believe **that you and me in 2008 came up with this scheme just in case something went wrong and our future friends took a wrong turn."

Willow's remark prompted Xander to look wide-eyed back at the entry as the one thought he was afraid of thinking locked firmly into place. _No. I gotta be wrong. I **have **to be wrong. You bastard. How could you do this? How could you do this to **me**?_

"Xander?" Willow asked, worry showing in her voice. "Xander, what is it?"

TBC…


	40. Resolving Photographs

AN: Apologies for the long delay. I needed to get some extra parts in on my LJ so that it was running slightly ahead of FF.net.

Feel free to check out my LJ, link listed in personal info. Feel free to friend as well.

****

Part 40: Resolving Photographs 

Amazing. Simply amazing. She managed to blow it with Robin to the point that he's shacking up with an unhappy Giles. She managed to alienate Xander even more, which considering her little attack of the violence on him back in the day, was quite the trick. And she managed to do it in one fell swoop because she couldn't resist getting in that one last jab at Robin.

Overachiever. That's her all the way.

One thing Faith knew: if you really wanted to bring a man to his knees, kick him in the nuts. She managed to kick Robin in his nuts hard enough to shatter whatever feeling he had for her into vampire dust. Bonus, she ripped out Xander's heart at the same time, but not over ancient history. No sir. Because that would require Xander to give a shit about her beyond the fact that she was human and breathing and occasionally fought by his side and would feel obligated to save her ass if she got in over her head.

__

That look on his face when…well, pretty much says it all doesn't it? She knows that slack-jawed-don't-say-anything-to-make-it-worse-how-much-worse-is-this-going-to-get- keep-the-face-blank-and-don't-give-anything-away-god-please-don't-hit-me expression. She knows it because, hell, before her Watcher removed her from her disgusting home life she'd seen that same look on **her **face in the mirror too many times after mommy dearest crawled into a bottle and started getting all "honest" on her ass.

Christ. Maybe this fucking "connection" Xander claimed they had before she tried to shut him up permanently **wasn't **about skin. Maybe it was because he got that part of her life in a way no one else got without her saying a word. She wondered what her tells were. 

****

Now she gets it. A little fucking late **now**, the ultimate day late and a dollar short. And the only reason why she finally got it was because of Xander's little tell in that masked expression. How the fuck did anyone **miss **that? How many fucking **years **did they just not see it? And which is worse? Being the new girl in town living in a crappy motel room and no one seeming to care? Or your life-long friends not even caring that you've got some serious shit to deal with whenever you step behind closed doors with the people who are supposed to love you?

__

Be honest here, both pretty much suck, they just suck in a different way, Faith thought angrily as she gave the cigarette a hard pull. _Goddamn fucking spider. Goddamn fucking web. All these goddamn connections…_

But the ultimate in this whole little clusterfuck? She **again **fell back on old habits because she fucking panicked, because she fucking lost control. How not to surprise herself. 

Loser. That's her to the capital L. 

Can't quit smoking. Can't have a reasonable conversation. Doesn't bode well for her no-more-going-evil resolve. _Think they got a 12 stepper for that one?_ _'Cause I think I need me a sponsor, _Faith thought as she scrunched the cigarette under her boot heel on the front steps. She thought briefly of calling Angel, but Angel was all about helping when shit was raining from the sky; not so much with tempests in kitchen-sized teapots.

__

I should be a hell of a lot more upset about this looking like this is it with Robin, Faith thought as she went back into the house. As she walked through the living room to the stairs, she didn't even register the crowd of Slayers along with their guests from the future fixated on the television screen while two of the girls went at it with joysticks. _Maybe I'm not more upset because I'm not surprised. Me and duty were an either/or proposition, never an and. Deep down I knew that. I'm such a fucking 'tard for not seeing it, that's what I am._

Talking to Robin right now is a lost cause. She'll at least try to…well apologize about the last bit about dragging sex into what was a legitimate fight after he cooled down. But other than that, she had to admit that no matter what, their relationship was deader than a vampire with a stake to the heart.

What she **had **to do was find Xander. Given how she owes him a delayed apology for much bigger shit, and since she used him to stab Robin in the gut, she has to try to tackle this right away because she doubts Xander's going to let her anywhere near him for anything resembling a one-on-one once he's had time to think about it. 

She wasn't afraid of the spider any more, mostly because it was all out of her hands. 

Besides, if that little party in the kitchen didn't kill it dead, nothing would.

***

Xander stared empty-eyed at the pages, more than a little overwhelmed. It wasn't the contents that were scaring the crap out of him. Oh, no. Big Brother from the future had made sure to keep all the good bits out of sight.

It was what the book **represented**. And he wasn't talking about Watching around the world with Faith, either. He hated it. If anything was going to push him to leave, this was it. No one was going to dictate his future, and that included one future Alexander Lavelle Harris.

Bastard.

A small noise startled him and he looked up to see Faith fidgeting uncomfortably. 

"I, unh, back there. I was being an asshole and…" she began. 

"I'm not talking to you."

"Look, I came to say…You have no idea what prompted that fight. If you knew the real deal…"

"And I'm calling bullshit on that. You said what you said just so you could put a real hurt on Robin and it put me in a bad spot," Xander growled. "I don't fucking care who you're screwing these days, but you keep me **out **of your fights with the latest fuck toy, got it?"

"Hey, gimme some credit here. I didn't drop the bombshell that would **really **piss him off, did I?"

Xander froze. "What do you know?"

"Thought you weren't talking to me."

Xander glared.

Faith sighed and shrugged. "I was sneaking a smoke when you confronted Catherine, then stuck around after you left to salvage your rep. Satisfied?"

"Not really."

"Okay, you've got a right to be royally pissed."

"'Pissed' is just the beginning when it comes to you and this whole wonderful situation." 

"Again, not saying you don't have the right, but will you let me fini—" 

"I want **out**."

That stopped her and she refocused on him. "What?"

"I don't want this. Screw it. Just because some book says…"

"What are you **talking **about?"

He held up the journal and slapped it down on the table. "I lied."

"Excuse me?"

"The whole entry for Moscow? Made up. Not true."

"Hold up. The whole description of Catherine's gang was on the money."

"The rest of it is not," Xander scrubbed his face. "Which means…"

"Which means?"

Both Faith and Xander jumped at the unexpected interruption. They turned to see Catherine backed by everyone, including Ms. Tikri, crowded in the doorway.

"Where's your Slayer guard?" Faith asked.

"Ummm, got involved with some vid contest," Charlie said, cowing under the combined glares of Xander and Faith. "Doom. Not exactly an uplifting name."

Catherine swept into the empty library, eyes blazing. "You found something," she tersely said.

Xander looked down and frowned. "Is English your first language?"

"No. We understand the spoken language because of our translation implants," here Catherine tapped her left ear, "but I can read a number of ancient languages, including English."

"But it's not your **first **language," Xander pressed. "Which means you might miss out on things like subtext or differences in how one page is written versus another page, right? What am I talking about? You didn't even realize that the Arrow was a book."

Catherine raised her eyebrows. "I suppose, but this archive has been in my family for generations, so it's highly unlikely that something like differences in writing style would escape notice. Besides, aspects of your personality are…"

"You don't know me," Xander harshly interrupted. 

"For the record, we know quite a lot about you," J'Nal sniffed. "Much of both your lives are extensively covered in the historical record, not just from your own journals, but from the journals of third parties and other contemporary sources."

"But everyone is only telling you what **they **want you to know. They're not about to make themselves look bad," Xander contradicted. 

"You haven't read the rest of your journals," Catherine protested. "You're always willing to admit when…"

"Catherine…" Charlie warned quietly.

"But what he's saying is **wrong**," Catherine said.

"You didn't even know I was blind on the left. Hell, you didn't even know I liked comic books until I **told **you," Xander pointed out. "Yet if you ask anyone in this building, they could've told you that much without even thinking."

"Hey, **I **didn't know about the comics," Faith protested.

"You've never asked, so why would you?" Xander crossed his arms.

"So that's your beef," Faith responded through narrowed eyes.

"How can it just be a lie?" Ms. Tikri asked. "This entry is part of a journal. It was even in the right…" 

"It was planted at just the right time to push you right here where you were supposed to be all along," Xander bitterly said. "Everything about you guys in Moscow is a big fat work of fiction. And not even a good one. Assface is lying through his Watcher teeth."

"That's impossible," J'Nal protested.

"Heard ya the first time," Faith said. "Still waiting for the explanation."

"Okay, first off, you said that we found the Arrow That Points the Way—and I can't remind you enough that you guys with all your future knowledge couldn't even figure out that it was a book of **street maps **that you can find **anywhere**—right here in Cleveland. Am I right?" Xander asked

"Yes," Catherine replied.

"So, let me see, we here in Cleveland find ourselves a mystical Arrow—and once again, I just gotta say 'street maps' just because I feel like it's worth beating that concept over your heads—in Cleveland, an Arrow who's main mission in its existence is to Point the Way to the grail. A grail that exists, and get this, only in **Moscow**. So, mystical Arrow that's not exactly mystical that tells you how to get to the grail, which is located on the other side of the planet." Xander paused to let all that sink in before adding, "Do you remember **any **information from **anywhere** that indicated that we went looking for this Arrow, found it, and figured out what it was used for?"

The Watcher Honoria thought about it, eyes narrowing. "I don't precisely remember, especially since the details of our visit to Moscow are very sketchy. But as you just pointed out, repeatedly I might add, that the Arrow isn't actually anything special."

"See? That's **exactly **my point," Xander slapped a hand down on the closed journal for emphasis. "Plus, if by **some **weird chance that our screaming yellow book of **street maps **had an X that marked the spot for this grail, which is supposed to be a powerful focus for major league magic, you'd **think **going to get it would've been priority A-number-fucking-one with a bullet and you'd have major coverage from **somebody**?"

"You forget that your people are rather busy wrestling with the logistics of building your Council and Gathering the Slayers," J'Nal reasonably pointed out. 

"Plus, Giles stressed to me that traveling to Moscow isn't as easy as wishing yourself there," Charlie added. "It could be that you and Faith couldn't get to Moscow before 2008."

"How about why we wanted the grail in the **first **place? How did we find out about it? How did it come to our attention?" Xander demanded.

Catherine winced. "I didn't review the records from this time period because we weren't supposed to **be **here. I don't **know **off the top of my head and without access to the ancient records. I can't give you an answer."

Xander crossed his arms. "Okay, fine. Let's move logically from there. Me and Faith in 2008 meet up with you guys in Moscow. Following?"

"Yes," Catherine said tightly.

"We're supposedly looking for a Slayer and the grail, using an Arrow map book that we found in **Cleveland**."

"Yes," Catherine nodded.

"You show up, working together we find the grail, and then we give it to **you **without even a thought."

Faith let out a low whistle. "That's not gonna happen."

"As you pointed out, we can't know everything no matter how detailed the historical record," Charlie reasoned. "Who's to say that there **wasn't **a discussion or an argument? For all you and we know, we could've just **taken **it."

"**You **might," Faith commented as she studied Charlie. "Bets are your boss would kick your ass if you did. I'm thinking Catherine here wouldn't be so hot on armed robbery, which is what it would probably take to get a very important mystical weapon out of our hands. Plus, I think Ruda would kill you if either Xander or me got so much as scratched."

"See? See? You're all getting my point," Xander interrupted. "There's **nothing** in the journal to indicate that anything happened at all. No discussion. No argument. No stealing. Xander Senior here says we gave it to you and you left. That's it."

Faith was deep in thought. "Okay, possible explanation there. Our friends tell us what the grail is used for, we realize that it's useless to us, and we turn it over since they need it."

"And we take them at their word," Xander flatly stated.

"We're basically taking them at their word that they're from the future, so why the hell not?" Faith countered.

"I have more proof," Xander said.

"I was afraid you'd say that." Catherine seemed half-convinced.

"There **are **no Arrow street maps for Moscow. They're exclusively North America," Xander said.

"Yet. Could change," Catherine argued.

"Let me finish. All those words that are directions to get to the grail? Lakeside? Superior? East? Summer? Street names. **Cleveland **street names. The Canada bit was the bastard's way of being cute. He meant Ontario. Erie isn't a description of a cemetery, but the **name **of a cemetery. Here. In the city."

Faith let out a low whistle. 

"But…" J'Nal began.

"It gets better. When I figured it out, I grabbed Willow and talked her into putting the whammy on the journal so we could break the blocking spell."

"You didn't…" Catherine began.

"Manage it? No. Every spell Willow tried, nothing happened. Except for her last attempt. End result? A spell that turned Willow's skin blue and freed up a couple of pages which contained, get this, Assface's idea of a joke written in Klingon."

"Klingon?" J'Nal asked. "I don't recall any ancient language…"

"That odd writing," Catherine's eyes were wide. "There's been a lot of controversy about the translations and there are a lot of competing…**you **can read this language?"

"Oh, yeah. And I don't appreciate reading the equivalent of nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah with a Moe-like poke in my one good eye followed by instructions on how to cast a counter-spell to change Willow back from her new and fetching Smurf look."

"Is she hurt?" Charlie asked. "I can take care of magical injuries if you need…"

"It's okay. She's got the counter-spell covered," Xander grimaced. "Although she's not a happy Willow, she's a Willow that'll recover with a minimum of trauma."

"So the spell did what it was supposed to do," J'Nal said. "Prevent you from seeing…"

"Which means that your great –rah knew exactly what spells Willow would try to open that book," Xander said. "Only way he'd know **that** is if **I **knew it and had already tried it."

"Still doesn't prove anything," Catherine said. "Willow could've tried the same series of spells five years from now."

"A Willow who wasn't even **in **Moscow at the time," Xander pointed out.

"Shit," Faith said.

"I'm not done," Xander snarled. "See, thing is, I was being my usual stupid self and just treating this," he slapped the cover of the book, "like it's just another Watcher's journal, as in one written by stranger."

"Technically, he **is **a stranger," Charlie pointed out.

"But it's still **me** and it's written by **me**," Xander growled back. "So I had to figure out what **I **would do if **I **were future Xander keeping nosy kids out of my stuff."

"You had to get inside your own head," Faith said. 

"To figure it out," Xander said glumly.

"Sounds like you're not to happy with what you found. Self-examination can be a real kick in the teeth," Faith said with sympathy. She winced. "Sorry. Prison therapy sessions. Promise to keep the psychobabble bullshit to a minimum."

"And what **did **you figure out?" Ruda asked with wide eyes.

"See, here's something that doesn't make sense. The entry where he talks about going to Moscow? He's talking about he and Faith trolling around the city. He doesn't even get to naming either one of the Slayer candidates. No Arrow. No grail. Nothing. It's all about the Slayer. No, that's not right. It's all about **Moscow**," Xander hopped to his feet, grabbed the journal off the table, and angrily began pacing around the group waving the book in the air like a preacher at a tent revival. "Then in the middle of a sentence he switches tactics and mentions, just in passing mind you, that you guys show up in Moscow. After that he **then **mentions the Arrow and this grail. First time. The **only **time. He doesn't even get into **why **it needs to be found. Even better, he conveniently gives us the street directions, **Cleveland **street directions, to find the grail."

"We never appeared in Moscow 2008," Catherine quietly said. "We were meant to show up here all along."

"That's good, right?" J'Nal asked. "Means we kept the timeline pure."

Xander glared at Faith.

"Hey! What's your problem?" she shot back.

"I don't like being told what to fucking do with my life," he snarled. He whipped around to face Catherine. "You can take your lovely bloodline and kiss it goodbye. I'm not cooperating."

And with that, he stalked out of the room with the journal tucked under his arm.

TBC…


	41. A Fighter By His Trade

****

Part 41: A Fighter By His Trade

Giles's fingers hovered over the journal. His tea was long forgotten as its temperature devolved into ice cold. The tick of the wind-up travel alarm clock didn't even register.

__

Inconceivable. His mind had been stuck on that one word for the past five minutes.

His hand drew back, but his eyes didn't leave the worn leather surface. Much as it shamed him to admit it, he simply lacked the courage to open it. Taking Xander at his word, while perhaps the coward's way, seemed infinitely safer.

The Watcher looked up and studied Xander's profile. The young man was standing with his back to the room, head leaning against the window, eyes closed. If Giles didn't know any better, he'd think that Xander was so exhausted that he'd fallen asleep on his feet.

That Xander was exhausted was a given. There were bags under his eyes and his face was pale and drawn.

In short, he looked positively miserable.

__

It's like watching a Jenga tower. Every time he turns around another block is pulled out from under his feet. How long before he topples, I wonder?

If someone had told him that the world's most irritating 15-year-old boy would someday be capable of creating such an intricate and delicately balanced ouroboros, he would've never believed that individual. Because at the time, to be brutally honest, he was fairly certain that said 15-year-old boy didn't have the brains of a mayfly.

How did that irritating child turn into **this **man? How did that happen? How did he miss it? 

Worse, what if it was there all along?

"Inconceivable," Giles muttered.

"You keep saying that. Please. Find another word," Xander said in a dead voice without opening his eyes. "Unbelievable. Incredible. Fascinating. Oh boy. Flamingoed up. Something, anything else. Just not inconceivable."

"How are you holding up?"

Xander snapped his head around, eyes opened just wide enough to show that he was suffering from a headache, possibly brought on by stress, exhaustion, and the desperate need to just stop for one moment so he could finally fall apart.

Giles knew without asking that if he were waiting for Xander to crumble or to even admit he was ready to crumble, he'd be in for a very long wait indeed.

"Been better." Xander seemed willing to admit that much as he turned around to face the room, crossing his arms as he did so. He looked down and added, "I'm sorry about Willow. It was…"

"…exactly what I would have done in your place."

Xander looked at Giles, no expression on his face.

"All things considered, you've shown remarkable restraint."

Xander shot the pile of Robin's things a nasty look. "Yet another first for the record books."

If Giles didn't know any better, he'd think Xanderwas more upset about Robin becoming his roommate than even himself. Actually, he looked more upset than even Robin did, and considering that Robin had just cut off his relationship with Faith…

"Don't let this business with Robin distract you. I'm certain it'll blow over," Giles said.

"Says the guy who didn't get ringside tickets." His gaze remained fixed on Robin's pile.

"I…oh, dear. Don't tell me."

"Finito. Kaputski. Over-and-out," Xander said absently. "Christ, what the fuck can I do about this? How do I fix this?"

"I hardly think that's your responsibility."

Xander looked back at him, blinking owlishly. "I…suppose."

"I know you're rather exhausted, but you're quite sure?"

Xander ran a desultory hand through his hair. "Dead sure. This sounds like something I would do. I'm just enough of an idiot to leave crap like this to blind luck."

"Or intelligent enough to leave it up to fate."

"I hate that," Xander snapped.

Giles looked down at the journal again, unable to escape the notion that Xander was hiding something, although he would be damned if he knew what it was. Catherine's group seemed bound and determined to prevent any further information leaks, and it was easy enough to check the journal to see if Xander left something out on purpose.

Then again, Xander always did have trouble with the concept of fate and destiny. Giles could only imagine the affect Catherine was having on that particular worldview. One thing he did know, if Xander's current stance was anything to go by, was that Xander was going to go down swinging at whatever was waiting for him.

"Be that as it may, now that we know where to look, it behooves us to…"

Giles's door swung open and Robin walked into the room with the last of his clothes. "Giles, once again, thank you. My only other choices were Andrew or Xander and I really don't think that would be a good idea right now."

"Gee, you think?" Xander snarled.

Robin froze when he heard the voice.

"Don't worry, not telling tales out of school," Xander bit out. "Believe it or not, I'm actually here for business reasons, not soap opera reasons."

The principal carefully put the box down and in a guarded tone said, "I didn't say you were."

"It appears that we've been the subject of a con," Giles interrupted.

"I knew it!" Robin crowed.

"Perpetrated by Xander," Giles added.

Robin's eyes narrowed into a glare as he fixed on the irritated younger man. "You son of…"

"That is, Xander in 2008," Giles broke in.

"Hunh?"

"What we have boys and girls is a very big circle." Xander smiled into his own anger. "The Crew from the Future were supposed to be here all along."

Robin's expression turned thoughtful as his mind focused on business. "But the journal…"

"As Xander explained to me, the entry was a plant," Giles said. "He theorizes that since he now knows and will know in the future that J'Nal landed wrong on the first try…"

"He wrote the entry so they'd have a target they'd be sure to miss so they'd end up where they should be in the first place," Robin finished thoughtfully.

"Glad you understand it, because I'm still confused." Xander's voice had eased into I'm-still-furious-but-this-is-more-important. 

"But you just explained it to Giles," Robin pointed out.

"Not the **concept**. The tenses. How do you do a future past tense anyway?" Xander said. "And if you try, will some English Nazi try to correct you? Because I gotta tell ya, high school English teachers aren't going to buy it for one second. I should know. I've tried." 

"Always with the smart mouth," Robin muttered.

"Beats breaking things," Xander said airily. "Walls. Windows. Dishes. Hearts."

"That's quite enough," Giles snapped.

Xander shut his mouth and hunched his shoulders, but Giles could see he was still fuming.

"What we need to do is conduct a diligent search of Erie Street Cemetery," Giles continued.

"I'll get the girls on it tonight," Robin nodded.

"No."

Giles and Robin looked at Xander in surprise.

When Xander saw he had their attention, he added, "Daylight would be better for scouting. Send the team out tomorrow morning."

"You do realize that it's going to look odd that you have a group of girls scouring the cemetery during broad daylight?" Robin asked.

"Like it doesn't look odd they're cruising the local cemeteries at night?" Xander pointed out. "Look, there **is **clue about where these caverns are. 'By the Angel Vaslik's wing.' My bet is that it's probably a statue, or a crypt, or a headstone. So we're going to, what? Send them out into a cemetery at night to read headstones in the dark? Sure, Slayers have got better eyesight, but it just would be a hell of a lot easier to do it during the day. Bonus, less chance of getting tangled up in a vamp rumble."

"Took the words out of my mouth there," Giles agreed. 

"Fine. Use common sense to beat down what was an otherwise fine plan," Robin shook his head. "We still need a cover story."

"Class trip?" Xander asked.

"To a cemetery," Robin deadpanned.

"Not a terrible idea," Giles slowly said. "Perhaps, only if asked mind you, the girls could say they were doing a history or genealogy project for their studies. I'll have to bow to your superior knowledge on this, Robin. Would such a project be possible in, say, a progressive private academy like our own?"

Robin thought about it and slowly nodded. "Yyyyyeeeeeessss. It is possible. But, I'd think you'd know just as well since you did work at the old Sunnydale High School."

"Oh gag me," Xander mumbled.

Giles fought against showing any amusement as he dryly said, "Yes, well. I tried not to actually interact with students."

"Because it would've been too hard to explain about all the nekkid witches in the books," Xander volunteered. "Those illustrations were definitely a corrupting influence on young minds."

When Robin and Giles gave Xander a pointed look, he added, "So it was just me then?"

"It certainly explains why some pages were more dog-eared than others," Giles gave Xander a half-a-smile.

"Count on you to use priceless books for cheap thrills," Robin shook his head.

"Was 15 when I saw my first naughty woodcut," Xander said in a fake-dreamy voice. "Betchya that's why I've got a thing for…"

Giles delicately coughed.

"Sorry." Xander ducked his head. Giles had a sneaking suspicion that some part of Xander was trying to recapture the easy banter of Scooby planning sessions past, forgetting that Robin could easily take his jokes the wrong way. "Ummm, look, there's a better reason for checking out the site during the day than just looking for something that says 'Vaslik' on it."

"Frankly, I'd think that's reason enough," Robin said with an arched eyebrow.

Xander shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "There's something trap-y around this grail."

Giles felt his blood run cold and saw Robin freeze in a similar manner. One word echoed in his mind: _Caleb._

Xander's face twitched into an aborted smile. "The good news is we've already got the heads up."

"From you," Robin said quietly.

Xander slowly nodded. "More good news, it sounds like traps, plural, of the _Indiana Jones _variety than…" 

Giles watched as Xander suppressed a barely imperceptible shudder.

"Yes, this business about the ground rises to protect the entrance. Any idea what it means?" Giles asked.

"From beneath you it devours," Robin muttered under his breath.

Xander's body went very still and Giles glanced back at Robin, who seemed lost in thought.

"If it was **that**, I'm pretty fucking sure I wouldn't be dropping cutsey wootsey hints about the fun and games," Xander said in a flat voice.

Robin looked up startled. "I-I-I didn't say you would it's just…"

"Don't go there," Xander interrupted in a monotone. "Don't **ever **go there. If you even **suggest **that I'd play games with people's lives like this…"

"Xander, I'm certain Robin didn't…" Giles began.

Xander kept his eyes on Robin, but his voice sounded less tight with anger. "Maybe it's something under the ground. Vampires. Zombies. Hell, maybe the ground itself does an impression of a classic California earthquake. I'm thinking that it's something that can be overcome without anyone getting killed."

"Agreed," Robin nodded.

"Teamwork that splits the team?" Giles asked. Inconceivable had become interesting. In a lot of ways, the journal had become a window into how Xander's mind worked.

Robin snapped his fingers. "Something that's easily distracted."

"So definitely a thing, then. Probably means we're going to have to have one group keeping whatever it is busy above ground while the other group goes below." Xander rubbed a hand through his hair. "Just for the record? Not in love with the idea of fighting a below-ground action." 

Robin and Giles exchanged looks.

"Xander? You most certainly don't have to go," Giles said gently.

"Yes I do," Xander said quietly. "At the very least, **I** have to go."

"Why?" Robin asked.

Xander deflated. "So I can see what happens with my own two…I mean my one eye and then write about it using the kind of words that make me reach for a dictionary." Xander shot Giles a dirty look. "And no, I'm not going down there because of 'destiny' and 'just because some book says so,' for the record."

Giles held up his hands, amazed that Xander continued to insist on his schizophrenic approach to the whole business.

"You mentioned fighting below ground?" Robin said.

Xander wrinkled his nose. "Grail's got a reptile guardian, as in a snake. Probably the only thing Ass…I mean, me was at all resembling clear about. It's a snake. That hates walnuts. My guess? A **big **snake. Lovely. Thought I was done with big snakes after graduation, but nooooooooo…"

"Xander," Giles sighed.

"Sorry. He's not real clear about how to kill it. 'Teamwork that shatters the team.' What the hell does **that **mean? 'Must be killed by a splinter?' What the hell is that?"

"You recited that from memory?" Robin asked.

"Been staring at the damn thing most of the day," Xander muttered. "Still bugged about the walnuts, though. I mean, what are we supposed to do? Raid the grocery store and pelt this thing with salty roasted goodness? As weak spots go, that one's a beaut."

"Be easy to kill if that's the case," Robin pointed out.

"Right. Send Andrew to Stop & Shop and have him load up," Xander rubbed his forehead. "Don't ask me why, but I don't think it's gonna be that easy. Remind me to punch myself in the nose come September 2008."

"Done and done," Robin promised.

"Yes, be that as it may, a daylight scouting is definitely in order," Giles interrupted.

Robin nodded. "I've got a few girls in mind. Good attention to detail. Diligent. I'll get right on it."

"Who are you sending?" Xander asked.

Robin headed for the door. "I've got a few candidates."

The moment Robin left, Giles watched Xander's eyes narrow in thought. 

"What is it?" Giles asked.

"Be nice if he gave you the list of candidates he had in mind," Xander grumbled.

Giles leaned back and studied Xander a moment. "Oh?" he prompted. 

"He should've talked it over with you as well as Buffy and Faith since he doesn't train personally with all the Slayers. While him and Faith in the same room is gonna be tension central, keep 'em focused on business and I'm pretty sure they'll listen to you."

"I quite agree. About Robin running his candidates by us." 

Xander looked Giles. "So tell him that."

Giles crossed his arms thinking back on the journal entry and what it said to the listener who paid attention. "I rather think you should."

Xander threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll drag Robin back here and hunt down Buffy and Faith so he'll vet the list with you guys."

"And you should also be involved with the vetting," Giles added.

Xander stopped, studying Giles out of the corner of his right eye, face looking confused. "Yeah. Okay," he said uncertainly. 

"Be as rude as you like about it." 

Xander looked grim as he followed Robin's path. "Now **that's **something you don't want."

__

From inconceivable to interesting to fascinating, Giles mused. Yes, the journal certainly painted a very clear picture indeed about the author, certainly more than the author would ever be comfortable letting on. _It seems to me that you believe no one should have to stand alone._

TBC…


	42. Carrying the Reminder

****

A.N.: And yes, before you ask, I'm letting S7's plot holes once again work for me. As far as we know, Robin has no idea about the real deal between Xander and Anya.

****

Part 42: Carrying the Reminder

Robin was coming out of the first floor bathroom when he felt an iron grip around his upper arm. "Faith, I thought…"

"Not Faith," said a decidedly male and angry voice. "Back yard. We need to talk right now."

"Xander…"

"Unless you want to talk in front of the kids and trust me, you **don't **want that to happen."

Robin looked down into Xander's grim face and sighed. Given the fact Xander'd been unwillingly dragged into the middle of a personal fight between himself and Faith, he honestly couldn't blame the younger man for being upset.

__

Problem is, I don't know who to believe. I doubt Faith would lie just to get back at me, but actions speak louder than words. The two of them barely talk about anything more than Slayer business.

But if Faith was telling the truth about a past liaison with Xander and Xander was lying by saying that there was nothing at all? Hard to tell if it put either Faith or Xander in a bad light since it was obviously meaningless to both of them. Faith deserved a hell of a lot better than a meaningless one-night stand.

She deserved better than what even he gave her truth to tell, but it was for her benefit. She'd see that eventually.

"Robin," Xander warned.

"Fine," Robin sighed back as he turned to go through the kitchen out the back door. _Might as well get this over with. Just what I need is another damn fight over my sex life with Faith. You'd think he'd be more focused on what's important._

They were barely in the backyard when Xander finally exploded. "What the hell was that?"

"You did walk in the middle of…"

"What the hell are you talking about? **You** walked in on Giles and me."

Robin shook his head quickly, deeply confused. "I thought you were talking business."

"We were and actually, and I'm not annoyed about you sweeping in, but Jesus Christ. Show a little damn respect."

Robin gave up. Once again he had no idea what was going on inside Xander's head. Huge shock, there. So, Xander wasn't upset about getting dragged into the middle of his fight with Faith. He wasn't upset about his untimely entrance into Giles's room. So what the hell…

"In case you missed it," Xander looked like he was warming up to his anger, "**Giles** is the head guy around here. Not you. Not me. **Giles**. He's the Watcher…"

"So am I," Robin quietly interrupted.

"Good for you, then. Must be a dream come true," Xander huffed. "But Giles has been around longer than you've been alive. So before you go tromping off into the house to assemble your crack team, you owe it to Giles to run those names by him **first**."

__

Aahhh. Comprehension, Robin nodded to himself. This was the same-old, same-old argument he'd been having with Xander for the past few weeks. He was doing his best to keep people focused and maintain discipline and Xander had once again decided that he was stepping on toes. This Scooby cliquishness had to stop.

Besides, he really, really wasn't in the mood to deal with Xander's petulant complaints, especially since his bad day had started off with such a spectacular bang.

"Look, I was just trying to get the ball rolling and…"

"Let me repeat: No one is going out to Erie until **tomorrow**." Xander began to pace as his voice dropped in volume and pitch. "That's **plenty **of time for you to come up with your list and run them by Giles, Buffy, and Faith. I don't know if you **noticed**, but this fun little operation is going to take **some **amount of planning. This isn't like we've got rampaging badness at City Hall and have to scramble in anything resembling an emergency-ish situation."

"Okay, okay." God, he **really **didn't feel like arguing the issue. "Sorry. I'll run the list by Giles. I just thought…"

"You'd make an executive decision," Xander nastily finished for him. "Middle of a battle situation, fine. Every single one of us in this house has made a decision based on a vote of one in the heat of the moment. I get that. I do. But this? Not an emergency. Not yet. Personally, I want to keep it that way and that means teamwork, not 'I am the law, like it or lump it.'"

"Point taken," Robin said tiredly.

His quick capitulation obviously took Xander by complete surprise, because all the anger seemed to drain out of him. "Oh. Good. Well," he let out a huff of breath, "that's it then. My work is done. For my next trick, I'll skydive off the roof."

Robin fought the urge to roll his eyes. Xander's never-ending quips from left field never ceased to amaze him. One minute, the guy's ranting, the next minute he's going for the Borscht. Instead, he chuckled and shook his head. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to ream me about this morning."

"Yeah, about that," Xander looked troubled, "I don't know what happened. I don't **want **to know what happened, but whatever it is, take my advice and go apologize."

"Excuse me?" Robin felt the stirring of annoyance. "You have no idea what prompted that fight."

Xander held his hands up. "Let me repeat: I don't want to know. At all. But…I don't know…whatever she did to get you that angry, just say you're sorry and make it up to her even if she was completely in the wrong. Get down on bended knee and…"

Annoyance transformed into anger. _That little prick. How **dare **he assume that Faith is the one…_ "It's over between Faith and I, not that it's any of your business. And I don't appreciate…"

****

"WHAT?" Xander shouted. "It **can't **be over. Look, go back to her. Crawl. Grovel. Beg. Plead. Promise her anything. Just get her to take you back. I'm sure that…"

"I broke up with her," Robin snapped.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" Xander started pacing again. "You've flipped. That's the only explanation. The pressure's got to you." He stopped and looked at Robin with wide eyes. "**Listen** to me. You. Don't. Want. This. Tell her you changed your mind. Tell her you made a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake," Robin grit through his teeth as he moved to get by his agitated opponent. _Speaking of pressure, what the **hell** does he think he's doing?_

The evil thought occurred that maybe Faith **was **telling the truth. And while he had a sneaking suspicion it meant nothing to her, he was willing to lay odds that it meant something to Xander. After all, Faith **did **say she popped his cherry.

Xander reached out and caught Robin's arm and tried to speak. Even though his mouth was moving, for once no sounds were coming out of it. Robin took advantage of the situation.

"Look, whatever it is you to had with Faith, you had. Ancient history. Get over it. You don't have the right to dictate how my relationship with her goes," Robin stated coldly.

"You don't know," Xander shook his head. "You don't know what you're doing. You have no idea what…"

"I know **exactly **what I'm doing. It had to be done." Robin yanked his arm out of Xander's tight grip and rubbed the ghost of Xander's fingerprints away. This made completely no sense. Xander seemed nearly distraught that he broke up with Faith. If Xander was still carrying a torch, his reaction was odd to say the least. Robin had no idea what to think.

"Why?" Xander stared at him in disbelief.

"Slayer. Watcher," Robin answered simply.

"So?"

"Don't you see that as a little bit of a conflict?" Robin asked, fighting the urge to throw his hands in the air. "Can't you see how many problems that might cause when things get ugly? The fight is dangerous enough without…"

"So you'd throw your shot at happiness away just because it's **dangerous**?" Xander looked around. "I know you've done this a long time but, where the hell have **you **been? You can't just cut off any chance of…"

"There has to be some clear lines drawn." Robin had no idea why he was even bothering to explain.

"But Faith doesn't **need **a Watcher. Or Buffy. What they need are people who'll work with them, not hand them orders." Xander shook his head. "What the hell am I saying? You and Giles are outnumbered here. I'm thinking that should hold true for just about every Slayer in this house."

"What does that have to do with anything? And why the hell do you care?" Robin insisted, partially curious but mostly furious. "This is **not **Sunnydale. This is **not **your ad hoc club of demon hunters. This isn't a way to score with the ladies. This is the big league. It's serious business."

Xander stepped back, something in his face emotionally retreating. "Like it wasn't before? A lot of good people died," Xander's voice was soft, almost hurt. 

"Which is my point," Robin insisted.

"What does this have to do with what you did to Faith?" Xander asked. Light dawned. "You think falling for her would distract you from your duty." He quietly added as he studied the ground, "You thought it was for the best so you just ripped her heart out. Just like that." He looked at Robin again, his eyes showing a hint of an ancient hurt. "At least you told her before it went too far, that's something I guess. No wonder she wanted to rip you apart for that selfish…"

"It's not selfish," Robin snapped.

"What else could it be?" 

The certainty behind the question was enough to cause Robin to snap. "This is for **her **benefit and you know it."

Xander stood stunned a few moments before bursting out into an off-kilter laugh. Robin could feel something physical in it, something dark and violent that slapped at him and left him speechless. As suddenly as it started, the laughter was gone, snapped off like a light, leaving something behind that was running on cold fury. "I get it now. This is for **her **benefit. You're doing it all for **her** because it's what's best for **her**."

Robin stepped back under the unexpected onslaught. "That's right."

Xander stepped forward in response, good humor slipping back into face. "I've heard this story before. It's an oldie but a goodie." The smile turned sly. "Knew this guy, back in the old neighborhood. Had this girl. They were getting married, follow?"

"What does this…"

"Let me finish." The voice reached out like a whip, snapping off the end of Robin's sentence with smooth expertise. "Before he makes the big trip down the aisle, he runs into a fortune-teller with a crystal ball who promises him a peak into his big future. Now this guy's a dope. Big believer in the happily ever after complete with the rolling credits and the swelling music. There's a word for that."

"Naïve?" Robin managed to ask.

"Stupid," Xander corrected as he circled Robin. 

The eyes staring at the principal were not the eyes of a man. Oh no. These were the eyes of a straight-up predator and that gaze was fixed on one Robin Wood, rooting him to the dying grass in the back yard. 

This was not Xander. Whoever this was, it was not some smart-mouthed kid with more bravery than brains. This was someone who was far more intelligent, far more knowing, and far more understanding about the dark side of humanity than he let on. Xander wasn't evil, but Robin suddenly knew that he wasn't the good guy everyone thought he was.

"What he sees isn't a happily ever after." Xander was circling Robin in tight circles, predator eyes barely blinking. "What he **sees **is him killing his wife at the end of a marriage that spent decades in the ice age. He sees it and he **knows **it's going to come true. Want to know why?"

"Why?"

"Because he also figured out that he believes in happy endings for **other **people. Him? Not so much because this guy, like I said, is stupid. The biggest dumbass to walk the earth. And stupid people don't **get **happy endings. They get to be the sidekicks. They help make happy endings for other people by making them laugh, by screwing up, and, let's be blunt, dying horribly and senselessly at just the right moment to give the hero a chance to take center stage. Stupid people don't **deserve **happy endings."

Robin crossed his arms. "Never figured you for a snob. We should live happily ever after because we're the heroes, but no one else deserves it?" He shook his head. "What will the **other **people in the house say to hear you talking like this?"

Xander stopped and tilted his head in confusion, like he heard what Robin said but couldn't quite make sense of it. "Why are you interrupting? I'm telling you something important here."

"And you're talking nonsense." Robin turned to go, but was halted by the unforgiving iron grip around his arm.

"So, this guy dumps his girl. Because he's doing it for **her **you see. She's better off without him," Xander said casually, as if he wasn't holding Robin's arm and Robin wasn't doing his best to shake it off. "That was the plan, and as plans go it was a good one at the time. Didn't exactly work out, though."

Robin gave up. Xander was going to have his say and there was no point in trying to escape until he did. "Because, of course, he realized he was wrong and made it right and the happily ever after happened anyway. You're so predictable with the feel-good."

"No." Xander sounded confused again as he let go and stepped back, eyes blinking rapidly. "Girl's so hurt she gets self-destructive, which, if you know anything about Sunnydale after the sun sets, you know that can have some pretty fatal consequences."

"Could anywhere."

"Yeah, but only in Sunnydale could you be stabbed with a sword for it," Xander said absently.

"Hunh? What are you talking about?"

"This guy, he sees it. Hell, he's watching on the sidelines. Doesn't say a word. Not one. It's killing him because he's still crazy about her. Misses her like he's missing his own heart. But, as bad as she's being, he figures she's **still **better off because he knows, he **knows **this, he's the monster."

Robin could feel the corner of his mouth quirk up. "Unbelievable. You actually buy Buffy-and-Spike as a love affair? You heard her. He was only necessary for the mission."

Xander's confused again. "Spike? What does he have to do with this?" 

Robin felt his face drop.

Xander shook his head. "Actually, you sort of got part of it right. Sooner or later, he can't take it any more because he still feels. Idiot can't shut off the emotions and hide the buttons she can push. So they sort of reach an understanding. She doesn't want to kill him any more, and he still loves her. They make it up, sort of, but nothing ever gets said because, hey, he's **still **a monster and she's **still **better off.'

Xander paused and gave Robin a knowing look. "She died anyway, you know."

"Not surprised. Sunnydale was dangerous at the end." Then it hit Robin and he could feel himself get angry. "So that's the punch line? 'She died anyway'? You are a piece of work, you know…"

"**That's **not the punch line," Xander waved him off. "Tragic, yes. Ironic, possibly. But it's not the punch line. The **punch line** is that after it's all said and done, and this guy is sitting alone in the dark feeling numb, this guy looks at me, he looks **right at **me and he admits that he didn't do it for her. Nope. At the end of the day he put himself, her, everyone around them through hell because he did it for **himself**."

"But…"

"**Himself**. He did it because he didn't want to even try to **not **be a monster. He didn't want to try changing the outcome because it would've been too damn much work." Xander stepped forward, face and voice devoid of emotion. "What it boiled down to was this: in some part of his brain, some reptilian part of his brain, he decided she wasn't worth the effort. Now **that's **the punch line." He stepped back. "You may laugh now."

Robin slowly began backing away. "You are one sick bastard, you know that? What exactly are you trying to prove?"

Xander moved suddenly. Next thing the newest Watcher knew, Xander was in front of him, iron grip around the back of his neck, pulling his face down so their foreheads were touching. 

"Oh, what **have **you done, Robin Wood? What **have **you done?"

Robin shivered as Xander's breath ghosted across his lips in that haunting and haunted voice. It was the kind of voice he imagined Spike used as he hunted down and cornered his mother in that subway car. His skin prickled in protest as every muscle locked into place. 

"What a tangled web, what a pack of lies. You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me. Not to me, Robin Wood, never to me," Xander said quietly. "I figured you for a smart guy, Faith fuckage aside, but really you're no better than anyone else, are you? Hide behind your mission. Hide behind your titles. Hide behind your authority. Hide behind your top-notch education. Hide behind your demons. Take that away and what are you? Nothing."

"Stop it," Robin whispered.

"So broken. I wonder who broke you, Robin Wood. Was it Faith when she put her trust in you? Was it Buffy when she saved Spike from you? Or was it your mother when she had the nerve to die on you?" Xander breathed back, thumb working in gentle circles at the base of Robin's skull. It was as intimate as it was perverse. 

"Leave my mother out of this." Robin tried to jerk away, but Xander without exerting any effort at all, kept him in place.

"**That's **okay, Robin Wood. I'll fix it. I'll make sure to fix it." Xander suddenly let go.

Robin stumbled back a step, eyes not leaving Xander's face.

As for Xander, his face expressed puzzlement, like he wasn't entirely sure why the two of them were talking in the back yard. Robin wasn't entirely sure what he expected, but the dead-eyed look of someone who felt nothing at all was definitely not it.

Xander's dark, knowing smile was back. "It's what I do you know. Fix things. Houses. Windows. People. I joke about it. Laugh about it. Put it down like it's nothing. Probably will die doing it, too. Because someone has to fix things, someone has to build something real. Everyone loves destroying things, but no one wants to build and no one wants clean up the mess of broken bones, broken hearts, and broken souls." He tilted his head again, confusion back. "Why is that, do you figure?"

"There is nothing to fix," Robin ground out. "This conversation is **over**."

Xander held up a finger, as if testing the direction of the wind. "Now **that **is where you're wrong." On that, he started chuckling that deep-throated, off-kilter laugh as he turned on his heel and strode back into the house. "Get your soldiers together and present them to Giles," Xander's voice floated back to him with a hint of sarcasm. "You've got a **mission**."

Robin stood in the back yard for a long time after Xander made his exit stage right. He tried not to think about the chaos that would follow if anyone else in the house realized that Xander was certifiably and dangerously insane.

TBC…


	43. The Heart of the Matter

****

Part 43: The Heart of the Matter

Catherine entered the temporary quarters with a sigh. 

"How's it going?" Charlie asked from his position by the window.

"They're out in this eerie cemetery looking for the cavern entrance right now," Catherine said as she fell onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"So you're sold then?"

"Completely."

There was a moment of silence before Charlie remarked, "J'Nal's doing the dance of joy. Well, maybe not a dance, more like a meditation. But he's smiling. I caught him."

"Great," Catherine said quietly.

She felt the bed dip.

"You could be happier about this."

Catherine grunted.

"There's a very good shot that we didn't screw up the timeline at all."

"Still not sure how I feel about that," Catherine admitted. "And we still don't know for sure."

"But our chances just got a lot better." When Catherine remained resolutely silent, Charlie dove in, "You're still upset about what Faith told you, aren't you?"

Catherine sat up, resting her face in her hands.

"Explains why they barely talk," Charlie muttered.

"I trust you."

Charlie looked at Catherine in surprise. "I hope so," the doctor said slowly. "We've known each other for how long?"

Catherine waved him off. "Not you. I mean, yes, I trust you, but that's not what I meant."

"So what did you mean?"

Catherine leaned back on her hands, her face still in thought. "Something I remember reading." She gave Charlie a sad smile. "You know what my family's like. Gotta know the history. Gotta know the facts."

"I'm beginning to think those are two different things," Charlie agreed.

"I've read every journal written by every member at one point or another," Catherine said as if he didn't speak. "Either for research purposes or for family study purposes, but reading Alexander's and Faith's journals is on the required reading list for everyone in the family."

Charlie kept silent, wondering where Catherine was going.

"There was this story? Adventure? Incident? I remember reading it and I thought at the time how strange it was. Why would 'I trust you' be so important?" Catherine gave her odd aborted smile at Charlie. "It's like that one line in a book you can't ever forget and becomes this big mystery on why it hit you so hard. 'I trust you' was that line for me."

"Are you going to tell me why? Or leave me guessing?" Charlie asked.

Catherine sounded distracted. "A little over two standard years from now, there's a demon loose in Cleveland."

"Now there's a shock. There's an unstable dimensional mystical convergence here."

"Yeah, but this demon? **This **demon's got these spines," here Catherine's fingers danced up her arms, "covered with some kind of poison. A normal person gets hit with it and they're immediately immobilized by violent seizures so the demon can eat them at their leisure. A Slayer can still move, but even they slow down. Remove the spines, Slayer healing kicks in and they eventually recover."

"But not a normal person?"

"No. Violent fevers, violent hallucinations, slow painful death that can drag out for weeks," Catherine answered.

"Go on."

"People in this house went toe-to-toe with it. Faith and Violet almost managed to kill it, but got hit with the spines, which left Alexander alone to face it."

"He got hit too."

"Yeah, but he still managed to kill it. Something four times his size with poison already circulating through his body. Can you imagine that?" A small amount of the family pride was still there as Catherine spoke. "Faith managed to remove everyone's spines, but not before Alexander had seizures."

"Well, since it happens only, what? Two standard years from now and he's still around after that, so we know he doesn't die," Charlie pointed out.

"That's not the point," Catherine said slowly. "He suffers for a week with these violent fevers and horrific hallucinations. I remember reading in Faith's journal that he was absolutely convinced that almost everyone was a monster trying to kill him. Some she remembered as real monsters he'd faced, some might've been imaginary."

"I heard 'almost.'"

"Three exceptions: her, Willow, and this mystically ensouled vampire named Spike who was around because he was delivering a package. Willow he seemed to see as these dark, twisted versions of the Willow he knew. A vampire. A murderous sorceress. A manipulative woman using magic for her own gain. Spike he didn't even see at all. But, he saw Faith and even stranger, he saw her as **her**, not as a twisted version of herself."

"Sounds like fun," Charlie muttered.

"Faith-then might see your sarcasm and raise it," Catherine admitted. "See, the thing that always confused me is that Faith seemed, I don't know, upset that he could see her. At that point they'd been working together more than two standard years, had already proven they were a good team, were responsible for a few younger Slayers that they trained in tandem. It didn't make any sense. I mean, I'd think she'd be happy that he could recognize her because that meant that maybe, just maybe, he was in love with her."

"Why would you think that?"

"I was a sappy romantic little girl."

Charlie snorted. "You. Romance. Is this before or after something tries to eat your head?"

"Hey! It was just the once," Catherine protested. When Charlie gave her a knowing look, she added, "Okay, twice." Charlie gave her raised eyebrows and she amended, "Fine. Three times."

"That you'll admit to."

"I admit it. I have rotten taste in men."

Charlie chuckled and shook his head. "Maybe you weren't wrong about him maybe already being in love with her. So, why don't you think that was the case?"

"Knowing what I know now? How can you even ask? Besides, I think he was involved with someone else at the time," Catherine shrugged. She scrubbed a hand through her hair. "I think I can see why Faith was bothered by it. I think it's because she thought he **was **seeing her as a monster. Not a make-believe one, but the woman who tried to kill him. It was like the fact he could see her as her meant that everything they'd gone through together ultimately changed nothing."

"She didn't say?" Charlie asked.

"No. No she never did," Catherine whispered. She continued in a louder voice. "Anyway, at one point she's alone in the room with Alexander he managed to get out of the bonds tying him down and makes a break for the door. Faith's forced to tackle him and drag him back to the bed, fighting him every step of the way. She eventually manages to pin him to the bed and while he's fighting to get her off, she's telling him that he's sick, he needs help, they're trying to help him, she knows he's in there somewhere…"

"If what you said is true, it's a wonder the situation didn't push him over the edge," Charlie commented. He thought about it. "It didn't, did it?"

"That's the odd part. The part I don't get. I mean, that I **didn't **get," Catherine fumbled. "He suddenly just went still and he's staring up at her."

"I can imagine what was going through his head," Charlie shuddered.

"No you can't. I don't think anyone can," Catherine corrected. "He says three words to her. Just three. 'I trust you.'"

Charlie let out a low whistle.

"I don't have to tell you that right after that Willow walked in and he's back into violent hallucinations. He manages to toss Faith aside and he charges Willow head-on." Catherine shook her head. "But the thing that got to me was Faith's reaction. It was almost like she didn't know what to do. Like those three words were these precious gifts. It just didn't make sense. At least it didn't make sense to me. I mean, why **wouldn't **he trust her? They must've been friends. They did work very closely together for a long time. So why would you work with someone you **didn't** trust?"

"You have your answer," Charlie said.

"No, I have my answer on why 'I trust you' meant something to Faith, but not the rest." Catherine looked down. "She never forgot that, you know. Every once in awhile she'd make reference to it, like somehow it became her touchstone, like it made her, I don't know, more real." She looked at Charlie. "Does that even make sense?"

"So how'd they save him?"

Catherine bit her lip. "There was a spell involved. A fairly gruesome one."

"Cure worse than the disease?"

"I doubt Alexander would agree, especially since he was back to his old self after a month," Catherine said. "But there's a damn good reason why every portrait in our time has Alexander dressed from the neck down."

Charlie slapped his head. "The **scarring**! I completely forgot! Well, that and I wasn't clear on the story behind it."

"Good thing," Catherine gave him a half-grin. "Can you imagine it now? One of us asking Willow about cutting those patterns into his skin to heal him? If you thought Alexander and Faith were traumatized by finding out what little they found out, I don't even want to imagine what Willow would be like if she found out that at some point in the future she'd have to nearly skin Alexander alive to save him."

"Betchya J'Nal remembered," Charlie muttered.

"Probably Ms. Tikri and Ruda, too," Catherine added. "But Ruda's got a good head on her shoulders and once she heard 2003 she knew to 'forget.' Plus, in Ruda's world any fight you can walk away from is a good one, so it wouldn't occur to her that this was something anyone should be warned about. As for Ms. Tikri? She strikes me as someone who'll do anything to make sure we have a home to get back to, so she probably threw out all those questions."

"You hope. And thanks for pointing out that I'm the dumb one."

"The dumb one who knows more about medicine than anyone I know," Catherine pointed out. She let out a sigh. "Don't feel bad. 'I trust you' has been practically burned into my brain since I first read it because it was such a mystery to me. Plus, I refreshed my memory before we made the jump."

"Because you wanted to ask about it," Charlie replied. When Catherine nodded, he added, "At least now you know."

"I only know Faith's side. Not Alexander's." She looked down. "I still don't know and will probably never know why he said 'I trust you' to the last person he'd ever say it to if he was in anything resembling his right mind."

"Think he would've answered you?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know," Catherine replied. "I honestly don't know. I might've gotten an answer, just not a truthful one." 

"Sooooo, they're looking for the Grail?"

"That's an awkward change of subject."

"Seemed like the thing to do."

Catherine settled back. "Scouting actually. Seems that Giles believes we should follow the script Alexander 2008 left us, or as close as we can get given everything was pretty much made up out of whole cloth."

"Why bother?" Charlie asked.

"The way he explained it to me was that if Alexander thought it was important enough to say we were present at the Grail's discovery, then we should be present," Catherine said. "We're coming up with strategy once the Slayer team gets back from the scouting trip. We'll be going for the Grail tomorrow night. Or at least that's the plan."

"And we know it'll happen because our plans have gone off without a spanner in the works since we started this," Charlie said. "What does Alexander say?"

"Don't know. From what I understand he's been pretty much holed up in his room since yesterday afternoon. Sleeping, if you believe Andrew Wells."

"And why would you do that?"

Catherine started giggling. "He's guarding the entrance to their room like it's the entry to the Life After. I'm pretty sure if someone really wanted to get past him, it would be a classic match: yappy dogger versus a rex catilus. Entertaining, but a very short fight." 

"I'm surprised it hasn't happened," Charlie chuckled.

"I think they've decided to find Andrew charming," Catherine lost her humor. "Prevailing opinion seems to be that Alexander needs the sleep, so they're letting him sleep."

***

Xander cracked open his eyes to see a blurry, up-close, intense face staring at him.

"YOW!" he yelled as he jerked back and landed on the floor with an impressive thump. "Ow, ow, ow, ow…" he moaned. Not from the impact of landing on the floor, but because of the pain in his right hand.

He brought the injured extremity up to his good eye and hissed. His knuckles looked like they'd seen the business end of a few knives and his hand was covered in blood. 

"Xander? Are you okay?" Andrew's tremulous voice cut through the haze of pain.

Xander checked his clothes and saw his shirt was covered with blood, although he could see that the only injuries were on his hand. He sat up and saw his bed sheets were decorated as well. 

"Xander?" Andrew asked.

Xander flexed his hand, hissing that the stiffness in the joints as the scabs painfully cracked.

"Xander?"

He placed his left hand on the floor and let out a yelp when the palm came into contact with something sharply shard-like.

"Xander?"

"I'm fine," Xander said absently as he scanned the floor of the room. _What the hell?_

The room's sole mirror was spider-webbed with cracks. Some of the glass had fallen out and was scattered across the hardwood floor. He closed his eyes, cringed against the bed, and hoped like hell there were no glass slivers embedded in his skin.

"What happened?" Andrew asked.

"I hit the mirror. Several times." Xander answered numbly.

"Why?"

__

Why? Damn good question. Probably because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

His throbbing right hand made sure to let him know that it wasn't going to be forgiving him any time soon for the abuse he laid down on it or the mirror.

And crawling into bed and promptly falling asleep after he finished showing the mirror who was boss? Definitely a bad plan all around.

"Xander?"

"Got into a fight with Robin," Xander muttered. 

Andrew looked from mirror to Xander and back again. "So you hit the mirror instead of hitting Robin." The roommate from hell nodded sagely. "That's soooo you."

Xander looked up at Andrew, not sure if the Annoying One was making fun of his blatant stupidity. Hitting Robin really would've been a lot smarter. Probably less painful, too.

How the fuck was he going to fix this mess?

Andrew crouched down so he was eye-level with the floored Xander, face full of a concern so deep that Xander was almost convinced that Andrew was something resembling sincere.

"Wanna talk about it?" Andrew asked. "I'm a good listener. I'm a really good listener. And I won't tell anyone anything ever. C'mon. You can lay it all on me. I'm good at that, you know. Doing the listening and the moral support. I can be Samwise to your Frodo."

Xander blinked at him, willing Andrew to just go away.

"Or-or-or not," Andrew hunched.

Xander looked back at the shattered glass. He really should get to his feet now. See if the mirror was completely unsalvageable. Maybe if he got some glue…

Andrew brightened. "Hey! I know! I could just sit here and say nothing. You know. In case you change your mind and need to…"

"Shower," Xander croaked.

"What?"

Xander looked down at his crusted-over knuckles. "Shower? To clean this?" He thrust his clenched right fist under Andrew's nose and watched disinterestedly as the boy-man scrambled away in surprise.

"Right. Right. Ummm, I know a little first aid."

Xander felt his eyebrows draw tight as he did more of that annoying blinking thing at Andrew.

"Okay, maybe not. But I can…"

"I can fix it."

"But…"

"I. Will. Fix. It."

"Oh. Right," Andrew nodded, beaming that odd smile at him as if confident that if anyone could fix it, whatever it was, Xander could. "I'll leave you to get cleaned up."

Andrew hopped to his feet at that and walked to the door adding, "Lisa called. They found the grave with the angel? It's pointing to a crypt."

"There's always a crypt," Xander muttered.

Andrew stopped and flashed Xander a pleased smile. "That's what **I **said."

"Birds of a feather. That's us," Xander said without emotion.

Andrew for some insane reason blushed at that as his smile stretched wider, as if he viewed what Xander said as a compliment. "I'll tell them you're up," he said as he bounced out of the room.

__

Wait, wait! They've already checked out Erie? I **told **Robin to… Xander looked at his alarm clock and realized with a start that it was 1 p.m., an hour before he walked into Giles's room to talk.

Shit. He slept almost 24 hours straight. 

__

Well, this is starting to look familiar. Get smacked in the gut, have a huge mental breakdown, rip into someone because they happen to be there, lay down some destruction on property. All I need is the empty bottle of Jack and bingo! History repeats.

Xander groaned as the memory his meltdown in the backyard slammed into him at Mach 5. Robin had it coming but Christ Almighty! He gave Robin a piece of himself, exposed the wounds for him to see. Jesus. Robin had no right to see that. No one did. No one supposed to see…

__

See what?

That he was running on empty since Anya…

"It should've been you, Anya," he said to the broken mirror. "Catherine should be wanting to know about you. Not Faith. Definitely not me. I'm sorry."

No answer. That was okay. He wasn't expecting one. After all, he's not going to get a last good-bye with Anya, any more than Willow got her last good-bye with Tara. But Buffy, on the other hand, **Buffy** got her second chance with the Brooding One and got to play catch-up Riley.

__

With my fucking luck, Spike'll be ringing our doorbell any day now with a, "'ello luv! Pip pip cheerio! I'm such a wanker!"

He snorted a laugh, partly because he knew how unlikely **that **was and partly because he wouldn't be at all surprised if Bleachie turned up with alleged soul intact. Wouldn't **that **just be the ultimate kick in the head. One good thing though: if Spike turned up undead, he was pretty sure Willow'd be joining him on the train to Bittersville. Then again, maybe not. She's got a Kennedy-shaped teddy bear to help her forget.

__

Little unfair. You know she didn't forget. Hell, remember how you guys talked on the road to rocket launcher city about how guilty she felt being happy with Ken?

He's got to stop chasing himself in circles. He's got to clean the mess and fix…

Hand or mirror? Hand or mirror?

Mirror. Hand can wait.

He crawled over to some of the larger pieces on the floor and studied them a moment before fitting the edges together. One. Two. Three. Four. Eventually he got a reflective surface large enough for his head and a little background scenery in the form of the cracked ceiling.

__

Gotta spackle that over, Xander reminded himself as he leaned forward and took a good look at his reflection in the surface.

The edges of the glass may have fit perfectly, but his face was distorted. His image seemed to jump ever so slightly at each crack, like someone had outlined a picture of his features but moved the tracing paper at certain points so nothing was a perfect match.

He tried to manipulate the pieces to resolve the image, but his hands were shaking so hard that he scattered the glass. He looked dumbly at the mess he made, one accusing thought chasing him: _I can't fix this._

Somewhere in there, he collapsed on the floor, not caring about the jagged pieces putting pressure on his left temple.

And for the first time since he lost his eye, his home, his Anya, and his life, he finally let himself finally fall apart.

TBC…


	44. In the Garden of Forking Paths

Author's Note: Seems I've attracted some new readers. Welcome! And thank you for the FB you've sent me (I'm trying to send out some personal acknowledgements, but RL has been busy!) and for reading. I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

As an FYI, I'm posting Living History to my own LiveJournal first, so I'm running a good nine chapters ahead there. Feel free to click on the link in my profile if you want to read ahead. If you are on LiveJournal, don't be afraid to friend me. I'm good at friending back.

****

Part 44: In the Garden of Forking Paths

Xander swiped at the condensation on the mirror, feeling better than he had since May when he realized that his life had been bisected by a world where Sunnydale **was **his world and a world where Sunnydale didn't exist. He studied himself for a moment, trying to see if his right eye had any telltale signs of his recent storm.

Nope. All he saw was one guy who looked like he needed another week's worth of sleep, but at least was freshly showered, shaved, and, most important, dressed. His first and last time—thankyousoverymuchly—of walking out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist was most definitely never going to be repeated.

Sheesh. You'd think the Slayers would have something better to do than wait around for this particular bathroom to be free. Plus, he really didn't ever again need to hear Rona giggling like it was Christmas. He knew he wasn't exactly pretty but c'mon, he wasn't hideous, or at least he didn't think so.

He looked down at his clumsily wrapped right hand. He had no idea how he was going to operate bow or crossbow in the big to-do coming up. Although nothing was broken, the heated, swollen feeling of infected cuts and the painful bruising made it difficult for him to flex his knuckles. He didn't even want to think about the pain that would result from drawing his compound bow.

Xander closed his eyes and gave his head a hard shake. He hid up here as long as he dared. He was going to have to go down there and face the rest of the house. How the hell was he going to explain what happened to his hand? As for Robin…

You can't fix everything.

Meet the new mantra. Fix what you can; don't try hammering a nail into a brick wall; and learn to figure out what can be fixed and what would be a waste of a good penny nail.

Good grief. He sounded like his mother's framed Serenity Prayer, Carpenter's Edition, memorializing the last time his parents tried and spectacularly failed basic AA.

Still, it was apt. He'd been so damn busy running around trying to fix everything—the house, the weapons arsenal, his friendship with Willow, keeping the baby Slayers from mutinying, trying to keep Robin from becoming Heil Fuhrer, and now dealing with Future People bearing disturbing news—that it's a wonder he wasn't living in a rubber room.

Not that he didn't just come disturbingly close to winning himself one very long vacation in a secured facility. Frankly, he scared the hell out of himself. He doesn't even want to **think **about what was going through Robin's mind.

Screw it. He's not going to apologize about any of it. Robin shouldn't've mentioned the break-up with Faith. While he's at it, neither Faith **nor **Robin had any business yanking him in the middle of it in the first place. It really was none of his damn business. Only reason why he's bothering because he'd somehow made the situation with Faith one more thing he had to fix.

Really, fixing wasn't the issue. Avoidance was the issue and since he was the **king **of avoidance, all he had to do was avoid Faith. Simple.

He reached up with his left hand and gave his damp hair a hard scrub. He'll have to focus on dealing with one thing at a time from now on; otherwise he was going to spectacularly combust and leave bloody chunks of himself all over the house.

Ewwwww! I actually got a mental image of that, especially since stupid crap like that could actually happen, Xander winced. _I gotta get away from Hellmouths. Find myself a nice, normal bedroom community and become Alexander Harris, Stud Handyman to bored, rich, trophy wives looking for fun while the sugar daddy is on business trips._

Okay, as plans go, not one of the best he'd had. Vaguely horrifying, but strangely comforting because it confirmed he still hada libido raring to go. Bonus, it was about as likely to happen as meeting Amy Yip at the water park and getting a blowjob from her underneath one of the slides.

And really, he needed to stop psyching himself up with stupid mental jokes just so he could face the world. Christ. If **he **can't take himself seriously, than no one else ever would. Then where would he be? Alexander Harris, Stud Handyman, balls optional, that's where.

To be brutally honest, he'd been balls-optional for a leeeetle too long. He kept trying to be 'the good guy' and all that did was make him the bad guy. That had to stop.

One step at a time, he reminded himself for the millionth time. Deal with Catherine's issues. Get her and her and her crew gone. Leave Cleveland and never come back. Instant make-your-own-future, sans specter of fatherhood, just add one bus ticket to anywhere but here.

Coward, his mind voted. _That's right. Run away like you always do. At least you're admitting it's really the fatherhood bit that's got you seriously freaked._

Yeah, but his fatherhood meeting up with Faith's motherhood? Icing on the cake.

Xander took a deep breath to psyche himself up and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood uncertainly in the hall for a few seconds.

On second thought, he'll go downstairs when he'd damn good and ready to face all the disappointed looks on everyone's face because he got hysterical on Robin's ass like a scared little wuss.

He went into his room for more mental pep talking and jumped with a shout when he saw someone hunched over the remains of the mirror.

Correction. Former remains of the mirror. The mess was cleaned up and a new mirror was leaning against the wall.

"About time," Dawn remarked as she stood with dustpan and brush in her hand. "Thank god the floors are hardwood. Because I soooooo don't want to even **think **about dragging our ancient, two-ton vacuum cleaner up here."

"You didn't have to do that," Xander managed to squeeze out. "I would've…"

"…fixed it?" Dawn gave him a skeptical glance as she dumped the pan's contents into a wastepaper basket. "Sit."

Xander plopped onto the bed. Something in Dawn's voice really didn't leave him a lot of room to argue.

Dawn grabbed a plastic Tupperware container with her name on it—one of those things Andrew insisted they buy so everyone could be clear on who had what stuff, and although Andrew's suggestions were usually of the insane variety this one happened to be a good one—and joined Xander on the bed.

"Let me see," she ordered.

"How…"

"Xander."

No mistaking the edge of warning in her voice. He held out his right hand.

"Geez, you're about as good at wrapping up your hand as you are at wrapping Christmas presents," Dawn complained as she removed the bandages.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing it," Dawn said simply. "Don't be upset because no one woke you up. You've been running around nonstop and everyone decided you needed the sleep, not that Andrew was about to let anyone in the room. He mentioned to me that you'd cut up your hand so…" she let her explanation trail off into a shrug.

"Oh god," Xander slumped. He was afraid to ask, but he had to. "Did anyone overhear…"

"…you telling Robin to take a very long walk off a very short pier? Amazingly enough no, but everyone knows both of you got into it something fierce in the backyard," Dawn answered. She let out a low whistle when she saw the mess that was his knuckles. "You really should stop hitting solid objects when you're mad."

"Sorry," Xander mumbled.

"Don't apologize to **me**," Dawn cheerfully said as she unscrewed the hydrogen peroxide. With no warning at all, she spilled it on his knuckles, getting some on the bedspread in the process."

"Owww! Hey!" Xander yelped.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes, yes yes!"

"Good," Dawn nodded as she grabbed his box of tissues and began soothing away the excess. "You're quite the hero. Popular opinion is that you finally snapped over Robin-I-Am-the-Boss-Wood so you've got a mess of Slayers declaring their undying love for you."

Xander was surprised about that. The usual prevailing opinion was that when he lost his temper he was either talking out his ass or exhibiting classic alpha male jealousy, so the fact that anyone was cheering him on was more than a little new.

As Dawn ripped the package open for a sterilized gauze square, she asked, "What really happened?"

"Why do you ask that?"

Dawn let out an irritated sigh as she unscrewed a tube of bacterial ointment. "Xander? You've been acting weirder than usual since you found out about Catherine."

"Can you blame me?"

Dawn looked up from smearing the medicine on the gauze and raised her eyebrows in an unasked question.

"Sorry. Pain in my hand is distracting," he weakly said to get her to stop looking at him.

Dawn pursed her lips, a sure sign she wasn't nearly done with him. "So who's the mother?"

"Wh-wh-what?" Xander sputtered out at the unexpected question.

"It's Faith, isn't it?" Dawn asked as casually as she would if she were asking about the weather.

"Why the hell would you say that?" Xander's mind furiously searched for a good way to shoot this thought right out of Dawn's head.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Catherine and her merry band practically worship the two of you, the two of you are in Moscow eight years from now—well, maybe—Faith and Robin **conveniently **break up—not that it wasn't coming—and you turn around and rip Robin apart in the backyard. Plus, it's been bugging me that there was something familiar about Catherine since she **got **here. She's got your smile, but she's definitely got Faith's eyes."

"Lot a leaps in logic kiddo," Xander lightly responded as he watched Dawn put the medicated gauze over his injured knuckles, surprised that the cool ointment actually felt somewhat soothing.

"I'm a regular Harriet the Spy, that's me," Dawn said grimly. "Remember our little talk back in Sunnydale about seeing things? Well, let's just say I learned at the feet of the master. You're lucky everyone's so caught up in their own drama because if anyone else was paying attention, they would've picked up on it."

No point in lying. "Faith knows."

Dawn glanced at him between tending to his injured knuckles. "That I didn't figure out, but then again, I don't really care what Faith thinks one way or the other. You I care about, so I'll pay attention to what's going on with you. Not that you've been a fountain of sharing since…" Dawn shook her head and looked away to snag a bandage to wrap his hand. "Sorry, I don't mean to get on you, but we **need **you and that means you **need **to start taking care of yourself because you'll be no good to anybody if you collapse like you did yesterday."

"Sorry," Xander apologized again.

"Again, not me you have to apologize to," Dawn huffed as she started wrapping.

"Don't tell anyone," Xander begged. "Look, it's not going to happen. Forewarned is forearmed, right?"

Dawn began neatly taping him up. "I won't," she promised.

Silence smothered the pair as Dawn finished. She put aside the silver scissors and studied her handiwork a few moments more before announcing, "I'll be downstairs. Come on down when you're ready. And don't worry, no one hates you, although I'm pretty sure Robin isn't about to propose."

As she stood up, Xander wanted to snatch her back to him into a hug, if only to prevent her from leaving. As he watched her put everything back into her personalized Tupperware, he wanted to say, _Don't go. Don't leave me to this._

No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't say it, partly because he just didn't know how to ask someone to save him and partly because he wasn't entirely sure what he was asking Dawn to save him from.

So he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling stupid and awkward, unable to shake the thought that once Dawn walked out his bedroom some part of her would leave him for good.

Her things gathered together, she spared a moment to study him and he found his breath catching.

There was something **there**, something ancient, something knowing, something watching. He saw it and he chilled at the thought that he wasn't looking at soon-to-be-17-year-old Dawnie, but at the Key who'd seen humanity emerge from the muck and would be there when the last human shut off the lights and left the universe. Some part of him wondered if the Key would die with Dawn or if it would return to its green glow-y state changed by its brush with humanity.

In that split second he knew: Dawn had stopped seeing him as just Xander and he'd never quite be able to look at Dawn the same way again. A gulf had opened between them, bridged only by those final dark days in Sunnydale when they believed they were the only two normal ones in a house full of superheroes or potential superheroes all with the great destinies ahead of them. He could feel his heart breaking at the very idea that this connection had severed while he wasn't looking. Worse, he couldn't figure out how it happened or even why.

"Xander…" Dawn began. She cleared her throat as if what she was going to say would hurt. "Look, if anyone can break all the rules when it comes to future pasts, you're the one who'll do it. So, yeah, I've got no doubt that if you've got your mind set on it, Faith and you will never happen."

"There's a 'but' in there."

Dawn grimaced. "It's just that if you run away from Faith, from us, even from Cleveland; if you start burning bridges because of what some book says or because it's exactly what you're not supposed to do, than you've already lost because you're still letting what you know about the future dictate everything you do and that means it **still** wins."

"Thanks for the Catch-22, Dawnie," Xander mumbled.

"Hey, you wanna give fate a black eye, be my guest," Dawn said gently. "But do it because your heart tells you it's really the right thing to do. Don't do it just because you think you should."

"Because following my heart is a strategy that's been a spectacular success."

Dawn clamped his jaw in an iron grip and he found himself forced to stare into Dawn's-old-but-not-old eyes. "You listen to me, Alexander Harris. You can doubt anything you want. Books. Prophecy. Fate. People. The evening news. But don't you ever, ever doubt your heart because if you do that, you won't be Xander any more."

"But…"

"Promise me," Dawn hissed through narrow eyes.

"Pwommiss," Xander capitulated through smushed lips. Dawn let go and he rubbed his jaw. "For the record? Ow. Has Buffy been giving you squeeze-y lessons?"

Dawn's face settled into a soft sadness, mouth twitching slightly at his weak attempt at humor. She suddenly leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

Xander blinked at her as she straightened back up.

"You know I love you, right? You know I just want you to be happy, whether its here in Cleveland with Faith or half-way around the world with someone you haven't met yet, right?" Dawn asked. "No matter what happens, no matter what the future brings, no matter what you decide to do, promise you won't ever forget that."

"I won't," he whispered, sounding lost even to himself.

Dawn nodded with closed eyes, her face fighting against showing any expression that would betray the thoughts in her head. Without another word she turned and left, abandoning Xander to sit alone on his bed, the ghost of her lips burning into his forehead like a goodbye.

TBC…


	45. Today is not a good day to…

****

Part 45: Today is not a good day to…

'X' marked the spot on the computer-generated calendar.

Buffy stepped back and studied her handiwork like it was a Picasso as she placed the red pen on Dawn's desk. It was the day before **the** day. No wonder why she was depressed…well, more depressed than usual. She stared at the row of neat, red Xs perfectly crossing the numbered squares. The scarlet letters' sudden capitulation to white space was jarring in the extreme.

September 20. Four months to the day…

Some hero. A white space in a calendar grid is enough to make her want to crawl under the covers and not come out until next year.

And **tomorrow **they're going to do it again, only this time they're going to get a grail instead of trying to kill the unkillable.

Four months. Four months trying to convince herself they won, but she's beginning to think that all they managed to do was hold the line. No one is living in shiny happy land, the world still needs Slayers, there are still demons, and there are still Hellmouths.

Plural.

It's the plural bit that gets to her.

She spent most of her time in Sunnydale convinced she was the Slayer—emphasis on 'the'—fighting atop the one and only Hellmouth. Sunnydale falls into a pit of **her **making taking Spike, Anya, Amanda, and god knows how many stubborn people who refused to leave town with it and she finds out that there are **more **Hellmouths and they are **active.**

__

You'd think someone might've mentioned this **before**, Buffy dropped to the bed and rubbed her face with her hands.

Buffy peaked at the calendar over her fingertips. No wonder why Xander was hiding in his room. He was probably doing the same thing she was: dreading the four-month anniversary of the day when he crawled away from a nonexistent town with only the clothes on his back and a hole in his heart.

And they're supposed to go get the grail **tomorrow**? A good idea this isn't. She's a corpse waiting to happen and she really doubts that Xander's going to be all that focused either.

__

All I need is an earthquake…wait, does Cleveland even **get **earthquakes? God I hope not, because Buffies and earthquakes equal big badness.

She's worrying over nothing. She **has **to be. If someone, anyone were in any real danger, Future Xander would've said something.

Wouldn't he?

__

Of course he would.

She hoped.

__

How wiggy is this? I'm pining my hopes on time travelers, future Xanders, and a journal I haven't even seen.

"September 19," the calendar reminded her.

__

September 20. She shivered at the thought.

Should she say something? Or should she just shut up?

The bedroom door burst open causing Buffy to leap to her feet and grab the closest thing and throw it. The squeak that accompanied the pillow making contact announced that the intruder was none other than Dawn.

"Geez, jumpy much?" Dawn demanded as she rubbed her forehead. "That **hurt**."

"It was a pillow," Buffy protested.

"A pillow thrown at me with Slayer strength. Keep it up and I'm turning you in."

"Turning me in? To who?"

"I'm pretty sure there's an international U.N. treaty against throwing pillows at your sister just because she walked into her own room," Dawn huffed. "You didn't get that violent when I read your diary when I was like 11."

"You did **not **read my diary."

Dawn flashed her a wicked grin. "Oooooooh, Angel is sooooo hot. And mysterious. He's not dorky like all the other boys."

"Why you little…"

"Too bad his forehead sticks out an inch from his face. He looks like a total caveman or something. Can they do plastic surgery on vampires? Because I don't want my prom pictures to come out all yucky."

"I did **not **write that!" Buffy growled back while Dawn giggled. "And his forehead was like that because of the quality brood time." She froze. "Oh god, did I just say that?"

"Score!" Dawn did a little victory dance in the doorway.

"Score?"

"I got you to admit that Angel was less than perfect."

"You did not! Ooooo, you're such a brat." Despite herself, Buffy began to giggle in counterpoint to Dawn's radiant smile. "Where do you **learn **this stuff?"

"I blame Xander. Totally and completely and forever," Dawn admitted.

"Remind me to strangle him later."

"Awwww, c'mon. That wasn't even the worst insult in the repertoire," Dawn fake-pouted.

"I don't want to know." Buffy flopped onto the edge of the bed. "Is there a reason why you're here to annoy me? Is it boredom? Don't you have homework-y things to do? Chores? A bridge to jump off of because all the cool kids are doing it?"

"Homework is done. I paid Susan to do my chores. And jumping off bridges is waaaaaay overrated unless you're Wile E. Coyote," Dawn bounced over to sit next to her sister. "Here to tell you the big house meeting's about to start, so we have to boogie on down and get the 411 and show off our mad apocalyptic-honed planning skillz to Catherine."

"If you finish that with a 'yo' and flash me a gang symbol, I'm sending you to private school."

"Ooooooo, Catholic School Girl look. Kinky. I'll be beating college boys off with a stick."

"What? No boys!"

"Girls then."

"That's it. I'm sending you to military school. You're beginning to sound like Faith."

"Take that back," Dawn said without heat. "At least until I get my listing under 1-900-skank-ho."

"Awww, c'mon. She's a one-man woman now."

"Nuhn-uhn," Dawn corrected with a grin. "Robin and Faith are totally past tense."

"What? When?" Buffy sat up.

"Yesterday. You gotta move out from the rock you've been living under."

"I **knew **it! That's why Faith was being all weird yesterday." Buffy felt herself guiltily warming to the gossip. "I sooooo totally called that."

"But you didn't get in on the betting pool, so it doesn't count," Dawn grinned.

"Betting pool? There was a pool? No one told me."

"That's because you and Willow were the ones giving the news reports, so no pool for you," Dawn airily waved a hand. "You two really need to check and see who's listening before making with the girly gossip."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. "This is worse than home. Is it even possible to keep a secret around here?"

The cheerful expression disappeared from Dawn's face. "You'd be shocked." She gave her elder sister a poke in the ribs. "We going or not?"

"Okay, okay. Sheesh." Buffy stood as she ran her hands down her clothes to make sure she was neat and presentable. "Let's get it over with."

As she walked out of the room and into the hall, she mused how Dawn seemed happier since they hit Cleveland, like her life was coming together. Much as Buffy envied Dawn's ability to thrive despite everything that had been thrown at her, her optimism about life in general was infectious in the extreme. _Can I bottle that? _Buffy wondered with a chuckle.

She didn't notice Dawn throwing the calendar a worried look as the younger girl followed her out of the room.

TBC…


	46. Crossing Words

****

Part 46: Crossing Words

Buffy inwardly winced when she realized that she was the last one to arrive for the house meeting. Actually, second to last. Xander was still AWOL from the house's general battle planning festivities.

She slid next to Giles. "Did I miss anything?"

The Watcher startled as he looked up from a piece of paper he had been studying with a frown. "What? Oh. Buffy. Glad you're here. Robin's worked up a short list of where he believes various members of our household will be able to contribute the most to retrieving the grail."

"Oh. Umm. That's good. I guess," Buffy fumbled. Then Giles's statement hit her. "Wait a sec. Did we already get plan-y? Because if we did…"

"No, no. There was some preliminary chatter with Xander about some of the traps he thinks might await us, but no actual planning," Giles assured her.

"Traps? What traps? No one said anything about traps. I knew about the cemetery scouting, but traps?" Buffy could feel her arm hairs stand attention. "I mean, I didn't expect just to waltz into wherever and pick up this grail thingamajig, but traps? We're **knowingly **walking into traps? Plural?"

"I do believe you've made something of a career out of it," Giles said affectionately. When he saw Buffy cartoon wince in response, Giles's expression quickly shifted to chagrin. "I was thinking more of your battle with the Master when you were 16, not…"

"Caleb," Buffy said softly. She looked up into Giles's face and saw the sympathy there, which somehow made her feel even worse.

"Rest assured, Xander does not believe these traps are anything approaching that level," Giles said quietly. "He believes if there were any real danger his future self would at the very least come out and say so. If nothing else that should be reassuring."

"You're right," Buffy felt her spine relax into the comforting notion, "I'm freaking over nothing."

"God, I hope so," Xander's voice interrupted. When Buffy squeaked and spun around at the unexpected interruption, he added with a grin, "because I would **sooooo** hate to become Snyderized."

"Snyderized?" Buffy asked.

"Eaten by a giant snake." Xander frowned. He looked like a soldier standing at parade rest with his hands clasped behind his back. "At least I'm pretty sure there's a giant snake. And it lives underground. And it hates walnuts."

"Snake. Underground," Buffy repeated with a nod. Her eyebrows drew tight. "Walnuts?"

"Walnuts," Xander confirmed.

"Well, that's pretty random," Buffy remarked.

"No kidding," Xander agreed.

"Why would you mention walnuts?"

"No clue," Xander shrugged.

"Just in case, we will be arming the party going belowground with walnuts," Giles interrupted. When Buffy and Xander looked at him, he added, "I do believe the plan was to throw the walnuts at the snake, if indeed there is a snake."

"Oooooh, this gets better and better," Buffy said with a disbelieving voice. "Your plan?" she asked as she nudged Xander.

"A really rotten plan," Xander glared at Giles as the Watcher fought to keep a straight face. "Let's just say I made a joke and certain other parties agreed it was worth a shot. Personally, I say we dump the walnuts and find an even bigger mongoose to help us out."

"I am comforted to know that you didn't sleep through all your literature classes," Giles said.

"Hunh?" Buffy and Xander asked in unison.

"Rudyard Kipling?" Giles prompted.

More blank looks.

Giles expression indicated that there was a monster headache in his immediate vicinity. "Dare I ask how you know about the noble mongoose?"

"There was this cartoon called _Riki Tiki Tavi_…" Xander began.

"Stop. Please. Stop right there," Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. Buffy couldn't quite make out Giles's mumbled follow-up, but she definitely heard "bloody" and "educational system" and "philistines" somewhere in the mix.

Xander crossed his arms with a grin. "Now **there's** the Giles we all love and annoy."

__

What the… Buffy grabbed his right wrist and pulled his bandaged hand to her. "What happened?"

Xander shifted uncomfortably as Giles focused on the pair of them. "I, uh, cut it."

"On what? Ginsu knives?" Buffy asked.

There was a flash of something that resembled embarrassment in his face as he tugged at his captured hand. Buffy took the hint and let go as he answered, "Just some broken glass. It's nothing."

"Nothing? Good lord, Xander, your hand looks downright mummified. You should get it checked," Giles remonstrated. "Regardless of your assurances, it's fairly certain we'll be in for some sort of struggle tomorrow, so…"

"Look, it's fine." He held his injured hand up to his chest, left hand ineffectually covering the white bandage. "A little Advil and I'm good to go."

"When did this happen?" Buffy asked.

"Yesterday. Just drop it, okay?"

Buffy looked away and focused on the chattering group in the library. She was surprised to see Faith leaning back in her seat studying the three of them. The other Slayer gave no sign that she even noticed Buffy looking back at her.

Damn, damn, damn. So much for the familiar Xanderism of driving Giles nuts. He was covering. Three guesses on why Xander didn't want to talk about what happened and she was pretty sure the calendar told her everything she needed to know on that score. _Great. Distracted **and **injured. Can we keep him out of the fight?_ Right. Like Catherine **or **Xander was going to let that happen. Robin may be nominally in charge, but this grail mess was their show near as she could tell.

"I would feel better if you had a doctor check you out," Giles insisted. "You don't have Slayer healing, so leaving it…"

"Who's injured?" Catherine materialized at Xander's right elbow.

The unexpected intrusion resulted in Xander looking increasingly trapped and—Buffy could relate a little to this—guiltily ashamed. _Oh, yeah. He knows the date all right,_ Buffy thought.

"It's just minor. Why are we building a drama?" Xander asked.

"That doesn't look like 'minor.'" Now Charlie was joining in the fun. "Let me look."

Catherine gave Charlie a questioning look while Xander attempted a protest.

"That wasn't a request." Although Charlie's voice was mild, there was no mistaking the order. Xander held his hand out for inspection and allowed Charlie to turn it this way and that as he gently manipulated wrist and fingers. "Whelp, whatever you did, you did it up right. This needs to be fixed," the doctor huffed.

"Oh for god's sake," Xander yanked his hand out of Charlie's grasp with a wince. "I'm **fine**."

Charlie mouth ticked in disapproval as he looked at Catherine. "Oh yeah. Definitely one of your relatives."

"Bullying him into seeing a medic is not going to help, Charlie," Catherine said.

"Helllooooo, standing right here," Xander interrupted.

"Charlie is the professional," Giles cut in. "Perhaps you should…"

"Oh for Christ's sake! Will you drop it already?" Xander's exasperated voice echoed a little louder than he intended and he winced as ambient noise dropped to silence and all eyes fixed on him. He slowly turned his head, biting his lip as he did so. "Umm, hey. I'm here. So, if we're taking attendance, mark me down as tardy and let's just do whatever it is we're gonna do."

Robin got to his feet. "Now that we're all present and accounted for, let's begin." He cleared his throat. "First, as you may or may not know, Willow and Xander were able to determine that the grail is not in Moscow, but right here in Cleveland."

"Actually, that was just Xander," Willow interrupted, "I was a little too blue to think about anything."

"Did I mention that I was **really **sorry?" Xander asked over a round of giggles.

"Hey! I seem to remember reading it was my idea, too," Willow cheerfully waved while a couple of Slayers moved from giggling to chuckling. A few even gave her friendly pats on the shoulders. "'Sides, once I got used to the look, being blue for a few hours was kinda fun."

"She's thinking of trying it for Halloween," Kennedy grinned.

Robin knocked on the table to get everyone's attention. "Well, it doesn't matter who figured it out, the point is, the grail is here in Cleveland. Thanks to clues left behind in the journal, we were able to determine that its location is in the Erie Street Cemetery. We sent Kennedy with a small team to scout the area. Kennedy?"

Kennedy stood. "Well, first, I want to give credit to Susan for the successful start of the mission. She was the one that suggested we check the Web to see if there were any burial records before we headed out. We were able to find out that Highland Park Cemetery had the records. Even though they only take mail requests, we knocked on a few doors at City Hall and using our 'class genealogy project' cover, were able to obtain a list and map of Erie Street Cemetery."

Susan blushed scarlet as Buffy heard Xander mumble quietly, "Willow's having a good effect on her. I couldn't imagine her giving credit to someone else back in Sunnydale."

__

Or maybe the ghost of Chloe haunts her on a regular basis, Buffy thought.

"Despite that, it did take us a few hours to find the grave in question," Kennedy continued. "There were several Vasliks buried there, but only one with an Angel statue as a grave. The left wing pointed directly at a crypt, so we investigated. The interior of the crypt was dark…"

"As crypts often are when the resident vampire isn't stealing electricity from the city grid," Xander mumbled next to Buffy, forcing the blonde Slayer to stifle a nervous giggle.

"…and contained only one sarcophagus and some stone statuary with carved designs," Kennedy shot Xander a look, a clear sign that she'd heard his comment. "We were unable to find any entrances or exits to the crypt other than the door we broke…I mean opened by force. Andrea," Kennedy's slightly harder tone indicated that she wasn't at all happy with the younger Slayer in question, "decided that the answer was with the sarcophagus and shoved the cover off. That revealed a set of stone steps heading down."

"Good thinking," Robin nodded.

"Except that **if **she'd investigated the statues like we were, she would've known that designs included words that would have **told **us that," Kennedy said while Andrea's eyes shot daggers into the speaking Slayer's back.

__

Wow. Kennedy sounds **really **angry, Buffy thought while she sensed Giles and Xander preparing for crash positions on either side of her.

"I have a reeeeeeeally bad feeling about this," Xander said sotto voice. He cleared his throat, "Ummm, Kennedy. No offense, but I remember Giles and me digging up and jumping into a few graves before thinking while Willow and Buffy watched and ate popcorn back in the day." Giles opened his mouth to protest, but Xander shot him a look that was enough to get the Watcher to close his mouth. "Seems to me it was a pretty reasonable guess, so aren't you being a little hard…"

"The ground shook," Kennedy interrupted.

__

Oh crap! Earthquake! Buffy hugged herself even as her heart sank.

"What happened?" Catherine asked.

Kennedy took a deep breath to collect her thoughts and continued her report. "I'm no expert on earthquakes, but I know it when I feel it, so we decided to get out while the getting was good. We got about as far as the door when the shaking stopped."

"And…" Xander prompted.

Kennedy turned to Robin. "You didn't tell them?"

"I only just got your sketches five minutes before the meeting started." Robin picked up a sheaf of papers, looking slightly embarrassed. "I apologize in advance for springing this on everyone. I was a little distracted by…well, my mind wasn't on the game. It's no excuse, but I did speak to Giles before the meeting."

"The fault is entirely mine since it seems many of us are distracted of late and several of our company did need rest," Giles smoothly cut in. "Think of it this way: you'll be spared having to repeat the story several times since everyone is here."

Xander seemed irritated, but Buffy could see Giles's point, especially since she was definitely in the distracted column.

As Robin began passing the sketches around, Kennedy continued, "Well, we saw these…geez…I'm not sure how to describe it. They looked human-shaped, but they were made of dirt."

"Great, more sand-made objects," J'Nal grumbled. "Is there **nothing **on this deities-forsaken planet that **isn't **made of sand?"

Kennedy blinked a little at J'Nal's interruption, gave her head a hard shake, and continued. "Anyway, they just ringed the crypt and stood there."

"That's it?" Ruda asked. "They didn't try to attack you?"

"Only when we tried to leave," Kennedy said.

"So how'd you get away?" Dawn asked.

"Actually, we didn't," Kennedy tossed Andrea another furious look while the other Slayer maintained her own angry stare. "We all got captured, patted down, **searched**, tossed around, and generally swatted like we were chew toys. **Then **they frog marched us to just short of the cemetery gates and threw us over the fence."

"They were searching for the grail," Xander said with wonder. "What do you want to bet?"

"So, in short, **you **triggered a trap and they'll be just **waiting **for us to go walking in on their turf," Faith said. "Teeeeeerrific. Fan-fucking-tastic. Way to wake these things up from their dirt nap for nothing."

"Well, at least we know what the first trap **is**," Xander pointed out. "We didn't even know that much, so maybe Andrea doing what she did is not as bad as it looks."

"So let me get this straight," Buffy interrupted, "Any of us could've just walked into this crypt and retrieved to the grail **without **getting challenged on the way in? As traps go, that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. The idea is to keep you away, not let you in."

"But think about it: we're getting challenged after we leave," Xander interrupted. "Plus, getting **in **the crypt is just the start. We have to deal with a probably giant snake and god knows what else before even getting to the grail. Can you imagine getting involved with a long fight and then coming out to face that?"

"Snake?" Kennedy's head whipped around to face Xander. "**What** snake?"

"And not all of us are superheroes with the strength, speed, and stamina of an X-man," Andrew piped up.

"I **hate **snakes," Kennedy stated.

"And there's no guarantee that we're bagging the grail without a scratch," Faith tossed out. "Slayer or no, **if **we get into a serious rumble, I'm not going to be wicked happy about fighting my way back out. 'Sides, for all we know, these things might get really mean if they're able to sense that one of us has this grail."

"What they did to us **wasn't **mean?" Susan asked.

"They let you go without rearranging your face, right?" Faith pointed out. "If we go rob ourselves a grave, we might not be as lucky."

"Got bit by a copperhead when I was kid," Kennedy muttered ignoring the exchange.

"Someone has snake issues," Vi sing-songed.

"People!" Robin shouted, but the room ignored him as people began talking over one another.

"I'm **not **afraid of snakes," Kennedy insisted.

"Care to go to the pet store and prove it?" Tammi asked with a snicker.

"Well, that explains that," Xander commented.

"Explains what?" Dawn asked. "Kennedy's fear of snakes? I didn't even know she was…"

"Enough about the snakes!" Kennedy shouted.

"I'm soooo glad you weren't the resident Slayer at my high school graduation," Willow said.

"Are you following this?" Catherine asked J'nal asked helplessly.

"I have it recorded if he isn't," Tikri held up her memepad.

"Hey!" Kennedy shouted. "Can't you remove the bit about me and snakes?"

"What I'm trying to say," Xander's voice rose above the din, "is that it explains the whole 'the ground rises to protect the entrance' clue."

The room fell silent and everyone turned their attention to Xander. Buffy figured ants were attacking his ankles because he nervously fidgeted under the undivided attention.

"Clues?" Vi asked, breaking the silence.

"Unh, yeah. Clues," Xander hesitated under the increased laser-like focus of the gathered Slayers. "The first was the ground rising to protect the entrance, which, if I think about it, was soooo wrong. More like rising while we're trying to leave, but it kinda fits.The good news is that it explains why we probably will need to split up."

"Split up?" Catherine asked. "Is dividing our forces such a good…"

"When there's four people, probably not," Xander cut in. "But look around, we've got, what? Almost three dozen people here. We can't **all **go into the caverns cause that's a recipe for confusion if I ever heard one. If we split up, our welcoming committee will be kept busy fighting the aboveground team which would give the grail retrieval team a chance to escape with the goods."

"Assuming they don't throw us over the fence. Again," Susan huffed.

"In the meantime, the belowground team will be retrieving the grail," Robin cut in. "As Xander explained, we will, at minimum, be faced with a snake, possibly of monstrous proportions. Besides getting past the snake, we will have to navigate unfamiliar territory in near pitch-black conditions. While there is no indication of additional traps, we could still be tripped up by loose rocks, stones, geological formations, etcetera. These little things could make the difference between success and failure."

"Oh, this is so like a D&D game it's not funny," Andrew nodded as he took notes.

"Just so long as I don't get turned into a bloody dwarf…" Giles grumbled under his breath.

"Actually, that might not be far off the mark," Willow agreed as she gave Xander a wink. "I was research girl today and managed to dig up a partial map of Erie Cemetery that includes the caverns."

"Like to know how they did **that **without having the dirt pounded into them," Kennedy grumbled.

"I think you mean the snot pounded out of them," Faith corrected.

"Spoken like someone who didn't have actual dirt pounded into them this afternoon," Kennedy remarked.

"Actually, they didn't," Willow interrupted, as she stifled a smile. "When the local spelunking club went for a look-see back in the 70s, they got attacked by 'hippie gang members' as they were leaving. I found some newspaper articles online that mentioned it. What really seemed to confuse the police was that they were searched, but nothing was stolen. I mean, how do you call it a mugging when no one actually got mugged?"

"Notice how it never changes?" Xander asked rhetorically. "Hippie gang members, PCP gangs. Makes you wonder what they'll come up with next."

"May I present 'ecstasy fiends?' It's the latest in the long line of 'I-did't-see-that-did-I' excuses," Dawn offered.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Buffy said.

"What? I'm thinking it's a **great **excuse," Faith grinned. "Mind if I use that some time when dealing with the seriously freaked out?"

"Whatever," Dawn shrugged as she took her seat, not seeing or caring to see the ghost of a frown line appear between Faith's eyebrows at her dismissive tone.

"So we have a map from the spelunking club?" Xander asked.

"Partial map," Willow corrected. "They got in through a sinkhole that appeared near our crypt."

"What happened to the sinkhole?" Robin asked.

"Appears the local cemetery commission had it filled in." Willow flashed a mischievous grin before adding, "Turns out there were some shady characters that started using the sinkhole as a hangout, so it was done to discourage trespassers."

"Of the skanky, horny, tailed, scaled, toothy, bad-hair day, in-desperate-need-of-a-manicure-and-facial kind," Buffy remarked. "What do you want to bet?"

"I refuse to take a sucker's bet," Faith replied.

"Here, here," Xander agreed.

"What can we expect when we do down there?" Giles asked.

Buffy snapped her head around to look at Giles as next to her Xander shifted uncomfortably. _Looks like I'm not the only who thinks risking Giles is an idea of the bad. We've lost too much already and losing Giles…_She didn't dare finish the thought.

"A cavern network that isn't so much network-y as it is twist-y, at least near our crypt," Willow said. "In the part where they did map, there appears to be a main tunnel or 'road' with smaller tunnels that branch off and loop back. Even the branches off the branches loop back to where they started to give you an idea. There are a couple of dead-ends, but they don't go very far off the main tunnel."

"So a labyrinth, then," Giles said.

"Pretty much," Willow agreed.

"At least as far as they got. Still don't know what's waiting for us and it's still not exactly a clear roadmap to wherever the grail is," Xander pointed out.

"Ahhhh, but **you **wrote that the tunnels would take us straight to it," Robin replied. "So it seems that if we stick with the main tunnel, we won't get lost."

"Got one word: snake," Xander grimly countered. "Seems to me that it won't be that easy sticking to a 'safe area' if we get into a fight."

"This gets better, and better, and better," Kennedy sarcastically said as she passed the sketches over to Giles without sparing the papers a glance.

"I dare say, this does resemble a golem," Giles remarked as he adjusted his glasses and peered at the rough pictures only just now reaching his hand.

"A golem?" Catherine sat up, an edge of excitement in her voice. "A real **golem**? Really?"

"Oh-oh. Catherine wants to make friends," Ruda mock shivered.

"I've got it covered if that's the case," J'Nal said with a self-assured nod.

"Don't you dare," Catherine warned. Her voice recaptured its wonder as she added, "Imagine! A real golem."

"That's a real pain in my ass," Kennedy huffed. "Literally since I landed on a rock when I got tossed out of Erie earlier. A **big** rock."

"Those things aren't even close," Willow sniffed. "Those things look like gingerbread men without the icing smile goodness to go with. I know from golems and that's not it."

"You've seen a golem?" Robin asked with rising excitement.

"We have?" Buffy asked. "Only one I saw was in a college film class."

"Had one described to me something like a million times," Willow said, the sniff was definitely more pronounced. "Tell 'em Xander."

"Ahhh, yes. Granny Rosenberg's traveling collection of stories to scare the kiddies. Every time she pulled up for a visit, I didn't sleep for a month," Xander agreed as he peered over Giles's and Buffy's shoulders at the paper. "Yup, gotta concur with the Willster. These guys aren't even in the same area code."

"How would you guys know…" Robin began.

"Hell-ooooo! Rosen**berg**. Rosen**berg**. Sheesh," Willow crossed her arms.

"Ahhhh, c'mon Wills, cut Robin some slack," Xander soothed. "Half the time **you **forget you've bat mitzvahed. Of course," he added with a sheepish grin, "my family probably made you wanna forget. The ol' Harris family charm and parties…not a good mix."

"Hey!" Catherine protested. "I'll have you know that one thing my family knows how to do is throw a damn fine party."

Xander paused a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. "**That's **what I'm afraid of."

"Why would you be afraid of that?" Ruda asked.

"If you have to ask? Then I'm not so afraid," Xander relaxed.

"And they have the **best **antique liquor collection in the outer system," J'Nal added with a smile almost reaching beatific. "I must say the 2656 skatch your father broke out to toast to the success of this trip…music for the pallet."

"And now I'm back to be afraid again," Xander tensed.

"I'm pretty sure that's the **last **thing that went right for this mission," Charlie remarked.

Xander looked helplessly at Charlie. "Nope. Still not with the relief. 'Skatch' sounds like something you'd siphon into jugs and sell to kids in alleys."

"Ooooh, don't let Catherine's father hear you say that," Charlie snickered. "He's a little bit of an epicure when it comes to his vintage collection."

"I don't think it's the same for her, Xander."

Faith's soft voice snatched at Buffy's hearing and she looked across the room to see Faith's attention sharply focused on Xander. Xander must've heard it too, since he looked up only to meet Faith's odd expression. He quickly looked away and down at his shoes, as if he wasn't entirely sure how or even if he should respond. As for Catherine? She seemed puzzled by whatever nonverbal exchange had occurred as her eyes tracked back and forth between pair.

Buffy didn't even want to try to analyze Faith's deal. What surprised her was that somehow **Faith** knew the why behind Xander's discomfort. How that happened, she had no idea, except it seemed to point to the fact that the two actually had some sort of personal conversation sometime after they all washed up in Cleveland.

She really wanted to offer the extra push, do the friend thing, shake the man next to her, and point out: _Look, look. Catherine doesn't **get it**. That's good, right?_

Except she'd never acknowledged Xander's situation before, not even when it stared her in the face at the wedding that wasn't. To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure she had the **right **to say anything since she'd been clueless for years and later willfully blind to the reality of Harris family life.

__

I hate this. One of my oldest friends and I have no idea what to say to him. How sad is it that Faith is doing my job? She reached out to place a comforting hand on Xander's back and let it drop just short of her target. Yet another thing she wasn't sure she had a right to do anymore.

Somehow the rest of the room had missed that slender moment in the growing din as Willow loudly insisted that no way, no how was that thing in the sketches a golem; Kennedy argued with Vi and Lisa about her most-definitely-not-a-snake phobia; and Giles handed Charlie the sketches before marching over to Robin with a paper in his hand.

In short, the nice, orderly meeting was descending into chaos. _Not that it didn't get seriously off the track three exits ago,_ Buffy mused.

"Enough!" Giles's concentrated exasperation shut down every conversation in mid-word. "Now is the time to focus and not one of us is doing that. There are a lot of us here and it's very easy to get distracted. But we must concentrate. Feel free to continue with this aimless prattling once we are finished with the business at hand, but right now is not the time."

Catherine's group uncomfortably shuffled, but kept silent. Some of the Slayers looked somewhat abashed, mostly because they'd never seen Giles snap. Xander, Buffy, and Willow exchanged glances, doing their best to hide their smirks. Giles snapping over raging short attention spans felt a lot like old times.

"Now that we have your attention," Robin said while Giles continued his not-another-word glare, "Let's recap: We obviously have creatures made of dirt that are supernaturally strong stationed at the entrance of our crypt. The crypt contains a set of stairs that will take us to the caverns. In the caverns we most likely have a giant snake that fears walnuts."

"Not fears," Xander corrected. "Hates. Big diff."

"We're armed and ready," Andrew practically saluted. "I went to the grocery store today and laid in a supply of Diamond Walnuts."

Xander rubbed his face in frustration. "This is **not **going to work," he said through the hands covering his face.

"You wouldn't've mentioned it if it wasn't important," Robin gleefully pointed out.

Xander peeked at Robin between over his fingertips before letting his hands drop. "It also could've been a **joke**."

"Reeeeeeaallllyyyy?" Robin grinned. "Why would you say that?"

"Because Assface has a **very **twisted sense of humor," Xander countered.

"At last you feel my pain," Robin nodded.

"Both of you…" Giles warned as he glared between the two men.

"Sorry," Xander muttered.

"Be that as it may, we do know that the main tunnel should take us directly to this grail. We don't know if we'll have to fight our way to it, or our way away from it," Robin continued. "Either way, there **will **be a fight."

"On two fronts," Willow dispiritedly pointed out.

Xander smacked his forehead with his injured hand and yelped, "Ow!"

"**That's **one way to get attention," Vi giggled.

Xander grimaced as he held his wrapped hand. "I just thought of something. We're going to need people who can read languages that aren't English."

Giles and Robin exchanged looks while Buffy felt the blood drain from her face. _Dear god, we're going to have to risk Giles!_

"Why do you say that?" Giles asked.

"There's writing…" Xander began. He shook his head and backtracked, "With everything else, this slipped my mind. Future me mentioned something about messages. There's one message around the edge that—oh crap, what did I say again—no one can translate. Wait. Wait. Not no one. No **contemporary** can translate. Contemporary. Yeah. That's the word. Plus, there's another message in the base that everyone can read."

"Sounds like the writing is on the grail itself," Robin said.

"But I don't **specifically **say that," Xander sounded distinctly worried. "For all we know, it could be around the edge of whatever it's on, assuming the grail's on something. The message in the base could also be talking about the base of whatever it's on. We don't **know**. Plus, we have no idea what it actually says. For all we know, it might say: 'Warning: People from 2003 should not touch this grail as it might cause your head to explode.'"

"Yuck," Willow grimaced. "Nice image there, Xander."

"You may be over thinking this…" Giles began.

"If no contemporary can read it, that means **we **probably will be able to translate it," Catherine calmly interrupted. "So I really don't see…"

Xander looked at her, took a deep breath, and admitted, "Look, I know you mean well. I also know that you're not one of the bad guys. But you're also desperate. Guess what? Day's going to come when we are too, because, hey, been there, done that a few thousand times. I'd feel a lot better if we had one of us down there translating along with you."

Buffy was pretty sure the resounding thunk indicated that every single jaw in the room had dropped open and hit the floor.

Catherine's hackles rose at that. "Are you suggesting that we'd deliberately put you or anyone in this house in danger?"

Xander raised his hands in a keep calm gesture. "I'm not saying you would and I don't **believe **you would, but you've got a job to do and that's to save whenever you're from. We've got keep here and now safe."

Buffy stiffened as Catherine's eyes squinted into a hard brown-eyed glare while members of her team veeeeery carefully took one step away from her tense body. _Oooooh, lookie! Appears Catherine inherited Xander's temper, too!_ Having been at the other end of one pissed Xander and his tongue a handful of times over the years, she really did **not **want to see both Catheirne and Xander go at it. They'd be cleaning shredded body parts out of the floorboards for **years.**

God knows how it happened in the crowded room, but Faith managed to vacate her seat and suddenly insert herself between Catherine, whose jaw setting in a manner that Buffy knew meant she was about to let fly with some choice words, and Xander, whose own expression had closed down in warning if Catherine even thought of voicing her opinion in any way that might resemble rude.

"Yo, everyone just chill," Faith said as her face pinged between Xander and Catherine. "No need to show off what I'm pretty damn sure is one nasty-ass family temper. Don't do this to each other. Stop it. Please."

Buffy shook her head with surprise. _Please? Did Faith just say **please**?_

Xander started at Faith's second unexpected friend-ish performance. As his attention focused on Faith, his face was a mess of confused emotions that Buffy couldn't even begin to read.

__

What the hell? **That's **weird. **Faith **is keeping **Xander **in check? What's going on? Did I wake up in the world without shrimp this morning? She glanced at Willow, who seemed to be taking the whole business in stride like there was nothing particularly unusual going on. She was about to step in to offer vocal support for Faith's own please—_I can't believe she just said 'please,' we're so definitely shrimpless—_when she caught the expression on Dawn's face.

It wasn't so much an expression as an utter lack of expression as Dawn studied the tableau. She seemed to be trying to read the tense situation, reminding Buffy of the no-she-didn't-exist-then-yes-she-most-certainly-did little girl who'd sneak out of bed at night to listen to mom and dad fight in bad ol' days in an attempt to figure out real sitch.

Dawn must've felt Buffy's eyes boring into her, because the younger girl switched her gaze to her sister, gave her a half smile, and raised one shoulder in a half shrug as if to say, "I don't get it any more than you do."

"C'mon." Faith was continuing with her peacemaking attempt. "We're all family here, right? Let's, y'know, act like it."

The sound of Xander's one fake eye and one good eye rolling to heaven was practically audible as Catherine clenched her jaw and looked distinctly ashamed.

"Ooooor, not," Faith lamely finished, suddenly looking surprisingly young and unsure, as if she had just realized what she was doing and had taken herself completely by surprise. She shook her head and turned to Xander. If Buffy didn't know better, she'd almost say that Faith was pleading with him, "Whaddya say? Peace out until this shit gets settled?"

Xander uncertainly took a step back, eyebrows drawn tight with confusion. His mouth worked around what seemed to Buffy must be a million questions before he finally agreed, "Peace out."

There was a twitch of relief in Faith's face as she turned to Catherine and—almost as an afterthought Buffy thought—asked, "Peace out?"

Catherine wordlessly nodded.

"Good," Faith said quietly. Instead of returning to her former seat, she took up a station against the wall. Buffy couldn't help but notice that she stayed between Catherine and Xander, almost as if she were afraid a fight actually would break out between the two of them despite their assurances to keep their tempers in check.

"Catherine, please see Xander's point," Giles said. Buffy noticed that even though he was speaking to Catherine, he was looking at Faith with something approaching pleased surprise. "Would you do any less in our position?"

Catherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose before grudgingly admitting, "We probably wouldn't let us anywhere near the Grail."

"Then I hardly think our simple request to include our own translator is out of line," Giles mildly said.

"It **is **fair," Ruda agreed.

Catherine's expression softened as she looked at her Slayer. "That it is."

"Now that we have that settled," Robin clapped as he shot Faith his own proud glance, "what I have is a list of who will be going where." For whatever reason, he gave Xander a meaningful look, "Now, I made sure to run the assignments by Giles and we are in agreement. The teams are as follows…"

As the names got read out, Buffy noticed that all the heavy hitters and experienced fighters were going below while the less experienced Slayers stayed above to keep their new best friends distracted. _Smart, actually,_ Buffy felt herself nodding.

She nodded her way through the list of the belowground team, which was topped by her own name, Faith, Kennedy, Vi, Susan, Lisa, Barbara, Sally, Xander, Willow, Robin…until she heard Giles's name.

"No!" She shouted. Robin's voice cut off and Buffy felt like crawling into a corner as everyone turned to face her. "I…I mean…what I mean to say…" she stumbled, took a breath and spit it out. "Wecan'taffordtoriskGilesbecausehe'stheonlyWatcheryWatcherwehavesogetsomeoneelsetogosnakehunting."

Dead silence.

Xander leaned over. "Buffy? Please start breathing now. You're turning purple."

"Good Lord, Buffy, it isn't as if this is the first time I've been in the thick of things," Giles said, his eyes blinking quickly behind his glasses.

Buffy hoped no one noticed she was beginning to panic. "But we can't risk **you **because…because…well…just because…I mean…Hey! You got other things to do. Important things. **Really** important things. Like Watch. Yeah. And write. And ummm…supervise. You have to be supervisor-y Watcher-y guy otherwise it's all higgledy-piggledy badness."

"Do you just say higgledy-piggledy?" Willow asked.

"Buffy's right," Xander agreed.

"Now don't **you **start," Giles said with exasperation.

"We're top-heavy going down as it **is**," Xander said.

"It's like an Away Team with Captain Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty, Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov," Andrew agreed to show his support.

Xander blinked at Andrew and then recaptured his thought, "Giles, you're the only experienced Watcher around here, no offense Robin, so risking you is a pretty bad idea."

"I'm suddenly not expendable?" Giles asked, angrily drawing up to his full height.

"You never were," Willow quietly offered.

Giles's eyes pinged between Willow, Buffy, and Xander. For a sliver of a moment Buffy thought he might argue, but he must've seen something in their faces that forced him to rethink.

"Giles? Buffy's right. We **need **you," Willow pressed.

"Now more than ever," Robin heartily agreed. "You have the institutional memory of the Council and the expertise, and that's too important to risk."

"Not to mention you're the only one who knows where some of the Council bank accounts are buried and that you're the only one who can legally harass the international finance community to cough up the cash," Xander volunteered. He nudged Buffy in the ribs and added with a wicked grin, "You get hit by a bus, we're going to have to get real jobs and no one wants that."

Robin rolled his eyes while Giles barked a laugh. "At last, the truth is out," Giles said as he shook his head and added, "Agreed. I won't go below. But," he held up a finger and his expression got serious, "I **will **be helping the Slayers aboveground."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but Xander cut her off, "Fair enough."

"Well, that's settled…" Giles began.

"Unh…actually, no. It's not." Xander nervously coughed. "We're still too top-heavy for the belowground team and we have too many of the less experienced Slayers fighting by themselves above."

Robin rubbed his forehead in frustration. "For heaven's sake. This is the list Giles and I agreed on. All of our best people needed below to help retrieve the grail."

Buffy saw something resembling hurt flick across Xander's face a moment before she heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the other Slayers. _Hunh? I don't get it. Robin's dead on in his assessment, so what's everyone's problem?_

Xander swallowed hard. "We can't send Buffy below either."

"What? Why?" Buffy exploded.

"Buff, you and Faith are the most experienced," Xander placed a slight emphasis on 'experienced,' "Slayers in the house. Having both of you fighting in the same spot is a bad idea. We can't risk both of you at the same time if we can at all help it."

"You seriously want me to be the little woman and stay **home **while all you big tough heroes go out and Slay the dragon?" Buffy crossed her arms with irritation as her mind piped up, _Hey, stupid! Weren't you just thinking that you and fighting right now is a bad, bad combination of the dead again variety?_

Xander stepped back under the onslaught. "**One **of you needs to be with aboveground team. You know, to be the lead-by-example type."

"So let **Faith **do it," Buffy huffed. Suddenly she wanted to really, really kill that snake just to prove that she hadn't lost the magic touch. If the snake wasn't immediately available, Xander was beginning to look like a nice replacement.

"I can't, B," Faith interrupted. "I gotta go down because I'm supposed to be there."

"Yeah, but if I'm hearing everything right, it was made up. **I **should…"

"Shouldn't," Faith crossed her arms in a mirror of Buffy's own stance. "Since Cyclops pulled a Stephen King, he could've just as easily put **you **in Moscow and left me out of it."

Xander's head shot around and he was again regarding Faith with that unreadable look.

Faith saw and in response she squared her shoulders, looked right at Xander as if **he **were the one protesting, and said, "You're following the script as close as you can for everything else. I gotta think that there's a **reason **why I'm in 'Moscow' and B ain't."

"Oh?" Xander's voice was tight with tension. "And what reason would that be?"

"Fuck all if I know. You wrote it." Faith kept her voice even, but Buffy could swear she heard a slight tremor of nervousness there. "For all we know, maybe B saves everyone's ass because she ain't in the thick of things like me."

__

Oh, look! No pressure! No pressure at all! Thanks a whole lot Faith! Buffy thought as she swallowed hard. Having a mindless battle with a giant snake was looking so very much more attractive than it did even twenty minutes ago.

"Actually, Faith does make a very good point," Robin capitulated. "Keeping one of the big guns in reserve is a good move. Nice thinking, Faith."

"Unh, that was Xan…" Willow began.

"Maybe we should leave Kennedy upstairs, too," Xander interrupted.

"What? Why?" Kennedy protested. "I will kick that snake's ass…I mean tail…head…well, whatever a snake's got, I will kick it."

"Before or after you let out a girly scream?" Vi laughed.

"Can it Hattie," Kennedy growled.

"Kennedy, **think **about this," Xander pleaded. "You're the only one who really knows the lay of the land and have actually gone head-to-head with a dirt guards."

"Yeah, and it went **soooo **well the first time," Andrea sarcastically said.

"You know about as much as the rest of us about the tunnels and our snake," Xander pressed. "But you know more than the rest of us about what we're facing aboveground."

"Well, since Andrea and Tammi are aboveground anyway, makes no diff if I'm with 'em, right?" Susan asked rhetorically. "He's kinda got a point, Ken."

Kennedy looked mutinous for a moment, but Buffy could see her break when she made a very Willow-like 'mu' face. "Fine. But not," she pointed a warning finger at Vi, "because I'm avoiding the snake."

Vi held up her hands and beat back a smile.

"We're still short a translator," Robin pointed out.

"That's where I come in," Dawn was on her feet.

"No!" Buffy shouted. _I should've thought of this. No Giles means…_

"You weren't on the roster," Robin calmly said. "I thought you weren't…"

Dawn made a face. "Not interested in breaking any bones, no. But I'm a better choice than Giles anyway because I got a better grasp of languages than he does. Besides, I **know **more languages than he does."

"You do?" Catherine sat up at that, her attention focused sharply on Dawn. "I never read…"

"Family secret," Dawn airly tossed out. She added with a wicked grin, "I'm a regular key to all languages."

"Dawn!" Buffy snapped. "You are not…"

"Yes. I. Am." Dawn fixed her elder sister with a glare. "I'm mostly on the retirement track, but this is too important."

"I forbid…"

"I'm going to be 18 **reeeaaaallllll **soon, so don't push it," Dawn snarled.

"Girls!" Xander stepped between the sisters. "Dawn, Buffy's got a…"

"**You **were the one who pointed out that we needed a translator." Dawn vibrated with frustration. "**I'm **the only candidate, **especially **if it's a language no one can read and you **know **it, Harris."

"What if it's demonic?" Xander asked innocently. "Last I checked, you were hot stuff with the human languages, not so much on…"

"That's why Andrew's coming with," Dawn grinned.

"I am?/He is?" Andrew, Robin, Xander, Giles, Willow, Kennedy, Faith…aw, hell…everyone **but **Buffy asked at the same time.

"Yup." Dawn looked very much like a woman who knew she'd already won. "Andrew's the man for the demonic stuff and I'm the woman for everything else. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll make sure we're armed with swords and…"

"No!" Xander and Buffy shouted in unison.

"Why not?" Andrew practically whimpered. "If there's danger, we need weapons."

"No. Swords. For. You." Xander spit.

"I don't think you should be teamed up with Andrew **at all**," Buffy said. Xander turned his entire upper body around to face her since she was standing on his blind side, mouth set in a grim line as if to ask, _And why didn't you think of this four months ago?_ Buffy felt something in her stomach curl up and die at the silent accusation.

"You don't trust me," Andrew said, his usually cheerful face radiating deep hurt. "Is it because of An…" As Xander jerked around to face Andrew, the younger man snapped his mouth shut.

Xander swallowed hard, but Buffy noticed a slight tremor in his hands. "You'll be surrounded by Slayers and we'll have Witchy Willow, Badass Robin, and Catherine's whole team watching your back. We'll all be armed. You should focus on any writing you might find instead of waving around a sword. Your job's too important."

"Oh." Andrew didn't sound entirely convinced.

"Dawn's not going," Buffy insisted.

"Buffy." God, Dawn's voice sounded so much like mom's it hurt, "There **is **no one else right now. I'll be fine. I promise to hide behind the Slayers, okay? I promise I'll be back."

"Buffy," Robin cut in, "we all know this is hard for you, but Dawn understands…"

Buffy held up her hands to cut him off, unable to tear her eyes away from the principal's face. He mercifully waited until she found her voice. It sounded rough to her own ears. "Take care of her."

"No need to worry," Robin said with assurance. "As Xander pointed out to me in private, if there were any **real **danger, he would've said something in the journal to warn us, isn't that right?"

All eyes turned to Xander. He nervously looked around. "That doesn't mean someone won't get hurt. It's still a fight and…"

"Overall, I have to admit, this might be a better line-up," Robin interrupted as he scribbled on a notepad. "Okay, new teams…"

Buffy was far less relaxed as he read the rosters. Giles, herself, Kennedy along with her scout team, and a handful of the newer girls were now aboveground. Faith, Xander, Willow, Robin, Dawn, Andrew, Vi, along with a handful of Slayers were going with Catherine's team below.

__

Don't wig. Don't wig. Don't wig… Buffy's mind circled the mantra. _Robin's right. If there were any real danger, Xander would've warned us._

She let the thought hang there as Robin mentioned a field trip to the cemetery so the house could get a lay of the land and see if their dirt friends were still around and plans to meet after supper so they could talk hardcore strategy.

As the group broke up, Buffy watched Dawn lean down and whisper something to Andrew. She added silently to herself, _At least I hope Xander would._

TBC…


	47. Science Plays At Magic

****

Part 47: Science Plays At Magic

Xander had an overwhelming urge to seek out and strangle Rod Serling as the meeting broke up. Andrew was right. His life was beginning to resemble a very badly run D&D game. All he needed was a singing sword and a pocket full of magic, and he'd be back in junior high with Jessie's maniacal grin staring at him over the DM screen.

And Faith…what the hell's going on there? What was she thinking? He watched the dark-haired Slayer out of the corner of his remaining eye as she scooted out of the room in an effort to make herself scarce, cutting off any chance for him to pull her aside and start asking some questions.

Considering that they had a million things to do before their assault on grail central tomorrow night, there was a very good chance that he wouldn't be able to catch her alone.

__

Maybe a good thing. I'm not sure if I'm annoyed or just confused, he thought.

"Do you need to talk?" Robin's voice said in his left ear.

Xander startled. _Will he **stop it **with the blindside?_ He shook his head and turned around to face Robin. "About what?" he calmly asked.

Robin studied him through narrow eyes and Xander had a sneaking suspicion that the Woodster was sizing him up for a straightjacket.

Xander felt a flash of irritation. Jesus. His life was messy enough. He really wasn't in the mood to talk things through, especially since it really wasn't going to help. "I'm good. Could use a few weeks' more sleep, but I'm good."

Robin nodded and dropped his voice. "Let's try not to let personal problems spill over into business."

Xander dropped his voice as irritation simmered to slow boil. "Do I look like I'm 12?"

"Just so we're clear," Robin replied, still nodding.

__

This is the beginning of one hell of an ice age, Xander thought as he gave a curt nod back. As he watched Robin leave the room, he could feel anger turn to disappointment. Somewhere in there he failed, although god knows he's not sure how he failed. While he never fooled himself into believing he was the center of the universe and universally loved like Queen C, he usually didn't earn the active, personal dislike of anyone or anything.

__

Mostly because you never mattered enough to people or demons for them to dislike you for you, his mind cheerfully voted. "Unless you count Anya all of last year," he muttered to himself.

"How are you doing?" Buffy asked behind him.

He turned around and gave Buffy a strained smile.

She seemed to fold on herself. "I heard you mention Anya," she quietly said. "Are you okay?"

Xander was about to answer when the sounds of a first class squabble cut him off.

"Charlie…" Catherine began.

"And once again, yes I can." Charlie looked like a bulldog that wouldn't let go of bone.

"Trouble in paradise," Dawn said as she slid between her sister and Xander.

Catherine was trying again. "For the last time, we are not allowed…"

"And for the millionth time, in matters of medicine, I outrank you, **Watcher**." Charlie cut her off.

Catherine's back stiffened and she threw a look in Xander's direction. "In most instances, I agree, but…"

"No buts." Charlie pulled his keypad out of its holder and he began fiddling with a series of buttons. He turned and marched over to Xander, Buffy, and Dawn, with Catherine ineffectually trailing in his wake.

"Look, I'm not saying that I don't **agree **with you. I do," the Watcher Honoria said. "But the timeline…"

"Is not going to be any more screwed up than it already is if I take care of this," Charlie shot back without looking at her as he stopped in front of the trio. "Show me your hand," he ordered without looking at Xander.

"Ummmm, what are you going to do?" Xander asked.

"Fix it," Charlie replied shortly.

"Oh in the name of the Founders!" Catherine shouted in exasperation.

"He's standing right there. Why don't **you **ask him what he thinks? Better yet, why don't you also ask…"

"Here's my hand," Xander practically shouted as he shoved the bandaged appendage under his nose while Catherine stiffened. "Pulling Giles into this is a pretty bad idea."

Catherine gave him the eyebrows of what-the-hell while Charlie winced and muttered an apology about his temper.

"Giles?" Buffy prompted.

"Well, because he's, like, a Watcher Founder," Xander fumbled while his mind raced to come up with something. "You know? Founder is a big ol…well, it kinda applies to everyone in this house. Sort of. Because, you know, I'm a Founder, you're a Founder, Giles is a Founder, and hey! Wouldn't you like to be a Founder, too!"

Dawn rolled her eyes.

"Thank you Dr. Pepper for that commercial announcement," Buffy said with a wince.

Charlie was already working at the bandages. "Who wrapped this?" he snapped.

"I did," Dawn said.

Charlie gave her a half-smile. "Nice work. Looks like you've had a lot of practice."

"Then what's with angry voice?" Dawn crowded closer to get a better look at what Charlie was doing.

"Our medic isn't exactly known for his bedside manner," Catherine growled. "That's why we're stuck with him."

"Please. You'd walk all over someone who didn't yell back, Cat-a-rat," Charlie responded as he revealed the hamburger that passed for Xander's knuckles.

"Cat-a-rat?" Xander asked.

"What the students used to call me when I taught combat back at the academy," Catherine responded with a half-annoyed, half-amused smile. "They didn't know I knew, but…" she let the thought hang with a shrug.

"That's because you never fought fair," Ruda bounded into the conversation, watching Charlie as he worked. "She used to **trick **us into these situations we couldn't win? And then—**whack—**next thing anyone knew we had bruises."

"I was not that bad, little girl," Catherine sniffed.

"What's important is that you believe it," Ruda giggled, "Cat-a-rat."

"You taught Slayers," Buffy said slowly. "In a school-like setting?"

"This is where I interrupt," Charlie said, giving Buffy a meaningful look. "Bad enough there's too much information about us floating around here."

"It's just that…" Buffy began.

"Well, I must say, Dawn, not a bad job here, all things considering," Charlie interrupted, a clear move to shut down any more questions.

"You going to stitch him up?" Dawn asked.

"I've got this," Charlie held up his medical scanner. "Now that I know the problem, hold on." Very soon his fingers flew across the numbered pad on the scanner's surface inputting a series of numbers and equations. In between all this, he asked Xander some quick questions about height, weight, time of last meal, last major injury, and any chronic conditions with such lightening-fast speed that Xander found himself answering before even registering that the question had been asked.

A few moments into the Spanish Inquisition, Charlie allowed himself a smile of triumph. "Got it!"

"Got what?" Xander asked.

Charlie hummed as he fished a clear tube out of a pouch hanging from his belt and snapped it into the scanner. A light, pink-ish liquid boiled into it, filling it completely. When the scanner beeped a completion, Charlie snapped the tube out and ordered, "Hold still."

"Wait…" Xander began, but his protest was cut off as Charlie slapped the tube right on his injury, forcing it into the skin.

"YEOOOWWW! OW OW OW!" Xander hollered as he snatched his hand back and clutched it to his chest. He felt someone brush past him and heard a thump accompanied by the sounds of one pissed off Slayer.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

Xander looked up to see tiny Buffy holding Charlie up against the wall in a way that made it difficult for the doctor to breathe. Catherine and Ruda broke out of their paralysis and rushed to pull Buffy off their teammate. Ruda grabbed an arm while Catherine crouched into a position that suggested she was about to let loose with a kick at the back of Buffy's knees.

__

Gottastopthisgottastopthisgottastopthis. "Buffy, wait! I'm okay!" Xander shouted.

Ruda yanked one of Buffy's arms, forcing her to let go of Charlie, while Catherine backed off.

"You sure?" Buffy asked as she shook herself free from Ruda.

"Yeah," Xander assured her. It was then that he realized that his hand had stopped hurting completely, not even a reminding twitch of its forceful meeting with the mirror. He looked down at his knuckles and added with wonder, "More than, actually."

Dawn let out a low whistle. "It looks like it's already healing."

Giles burst into the room. "Good lord! What is that racket?"

"That's what I get for practicing modern medicine," Charlie hoarsely grumbled as he clutched at his throat.

"Next time explain what you're doing when you do it to the natives," Catherine said, as she checked Charlie over. "No lasting damage, but you're going to have one lovely bruise." She spared a glare for Buffy. "And next time, **ask **before you attack. Or at the very least use your brain. Considering who I am, do you honestly believe any of us would **hurt **Alexander?"

"Well, it looked hinky," Buffy huffed with arms crossed. "What was I **supposed **to think?"

"Guys!" Xander cut in. "Dawn's right. My hand is already healing."

"What?" Giles was still out of sorts, considering he came in at the end of the argument. Xander could practically imagine Giles's big brain was desperately casting about to latch on to something and miraculous healing seemed to be just the ticket.

Scuffle forgotten, Buffy and Giles crowded close and watched as cuts on Xander's knuckles seemed to knit themselves together.

It was Buffy's turn to let out a low whistle. "Almost as good as Slayer healing."

"How does it work?" Dawn demanded.

Catherine cleared her throat in warning.

The doctor caught it and deflated slightly. "I really can't get into the science of it because the pharmacological technology is, ummmm, not accessible at this time, but," he gave Catherine a slightly defiant look, "the basic idea is that I merely created a chemical compound that kicked his healing factors into overdrive."

"I'd hate to see this thing cross a Slayer," Dawn said.

"Works even better on a Slayer," Ruda teased, the earlier physical confrontation already forgiven and forgotten.

"Wow," Buffy said softly.

Charlie snapped to all business. "However, Alexander is **not **a Slayer, which means it **will **take something out of him. I recommend a good meal this evening and tomorrow morning, eight hours rest…"

"But…" Xander began.

"…with no excuses that you don't have time, geez Catherine, he really **is **one of your relatives, and drink lots of warm fluids. By the time we hit the cemetery tomorrow, you and your hand will be right as the precipitation on Novous."

"Or right as rain," Giles said, as he held Xander's rapidly healing hand closer to his face for inspection.

Charlie, Catherine, and Ruda exchanged glances. "I like ours better," Ruda finally announced. "You haven't **lived **until you've felt the precipitation on Novous."

TBC…


	48. Spotlight on Rupert Giles

****

Part 48: Spotlight on Rupert Giles

__

Selected items from **UNS** Q&A session with **Rupert Giles**, leader of the Taran United Watcher's Council, pre-founding, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

__

The popular image of **Wise Rupert Giles-rah** is one of a man who is even-tempered, even-handed, and a dispassionate recorder of history. There is no doubt that his logical, calming influence on the more colorful personalities around him is one of the main reasons why the Taran United Watcher's Council managed to take root and eventually thrive. One can only imagine how he'd react upon hearing about the internal squabbles and differences in philosophy that eventually lead to the United Council's split.

__

One thing he probably wouldn't be is surprised.

__

He has no illusions about the people around him and is able to judge them in that light. He hails his allies for their strengths, even as he admits to their weaknesses.

__

For all his logic and intelligence, there is no question that he harbors a great affection for the people around him and that he trusts them to do no less than their best under trying circumstances. He is, in addition, highly protective of everyone under his gaze, ranging from fellow Watchers and senior Slayers to the youngest and newest people to join the household.

**__**

Wise Giles-rah does not bear the -sen title after his name as too many people claim him as a Guiding Light: from the Council Honoria to the Council Educationary; the Slayer Buffista, Faithist, and Unitan sects; the Slayer Judiciary Committee; and on and on and on. He is too important to be claimed by just one, and so he is claimed by all. Even in our day in age, **Wise Giles-rah** remains one of the few uniting influences on those who fight to protect humanity.

__

This fact would probably be the only thing that would surprise him.

**__**

Wise Giles-rah left behind him oceans of records, meticulously recording the trials and triumphs of the infant post-Sun'dayl world. Yet, for all those words, for all those records, he left little of his humanity behind for us to see. Meet the man behind the history in all his human, passionate glory in this exclusive **UNS** interview.

****

UNS: I'm so pleased that I finally got you for an interview. You're a very difficult man to capture.

****

RG: Yes, well. I've been quite, quite busy. No rest for the wicked and weary.

****

UNS: Depending on whom you talk to, you're a bit of both.

****

RG: Pardon?

****

UNS: In my interviews I've gotten a...how can I say this? A very confusing picture of what goes on in this house.

****

RG: Rather not surprised. Frankly, I'm often befuddled by my colleagues' use of language. Honestly, how can something be 'of the bad' I ask you. What is wrong with simply saying 'bad?' I fear for future generations of Watchers. Imprecise use of language is clearly the cornerstone of your current dilemma.

****

UNS: Not to mention outright lies, fictional accounts in Watchers' journals...

****

RG: Ahhh, yes, well...I'm certain Xander had very good reasons for that. To be brutally honest, I actually found the journal entry in question to be very precisely worded indeed for our present-day purposes. Perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised. He can, after all, correctly use the word 'giddy' in a sentence that applies to himself.

****

UNS: Are you actually advocating his falsifying and altering records?

****

RG: Oh my, someone is quite touchy, aren't they? [leans forward to get a look at MemePad] Been doing a little creative editing, have we?

****

UNS: [snappish] Answer the question.

****

RG: I do believe you're taking your ire out on the wrong individual. I'm certain you could perhaps get a better answer if you asked Xander. [leans back with a slight grin] Provided he didn't rip your head off and then jump up and down on your gadget before you finished the question. [thinks about it] On second thought, perhaps I should pull him into this interview right now. I would pay very good money to see that.

****

UNS: [confused] You don't like me very much, do you?

****

RG: [looks at **UNS** over his vision correction apparatus] You? I don't know you at all. However, I suspect that you've been quite the disruptive influence. People talk to you and they walk away changed. Very rarely for the better, I might add.

****

UNS: [alarmed] Changed? What do you mean?

****

RG: The most immediate example that springs to mind is Robin. After your interview he breaks off his relationship with Faith. It was quite sudden and unexpected. Well, actually, I tell a lie. It was not unexpected, merely happened sooner than expected. [voice hardens] I'll have you know that I'm now out a good fifty quid. I bloody well called a Halloween break-up and I most certainly should've won the pool.

****

UNS: Pool? [nervous laughter] Oh, you're having a joke at my expense. I should've realized...

****

RG: I'm bloody well being serious. I find it rather curious that Robin speaks with you and then, just like dominoes, one event leads to another event, leads to yet another.

****

UNS: I, unh, what do you...

****

RG: [ticking points off on fingers] Robin breaks up with Faith. **Xander**, who's shown positively no interest in putting in for the betting pool, let alone saying 'boo' about the business, suddenly is pulled not just into witnessing the end of Robin's relationship with Faith, but **also** verbally attacks Robin over it, thereby further cementing Robin's belief that he was right in ending the relationship. Faith, for whatever reason, is now visibly supporting Xander, whereas before they may have simply agreed on certain things in house meetings, which, although this behavior is clearly confusing him to no end, may force him to re-evaluate Faith. [leans back] I find that rather fascinating, don't you?

****

UNS: [stumbles] I, unh, honestly...I don't see how...[hardens voice] Robin and I were merely talking about his philosophies about Watching and Slaying. It is most certainly not **my** fault if he had an epiphany during the interview.

****

RG: [half-smile] 'Epiphany' is such a marvelous word. I so hate to see it misused.

****

UNS: Are you accusing me of...

****

RG: [innocent expression, hand over heart] I? I accuse you of nothing, dear lady. Had Robin been merely a single case, I could find it in me to want to believe you. But let us consider the case of Buffy, shall we? By the time you were through with her, she began hiding in her room more often. Frankly, I thought it was well nigh impossible for her to retreat any more than she has done since we first came to this city, but somehow you managed to help her do just that.

****

UNS: [cringing] There may be...oh futch...there may have been a bit of a slip of a tongue on my part.

****

RG: Indeed? So Robin's case was **not** a slip of the tongue, I suppose?

****

UNS: The two incidents are unrelated! [stands] This interview is over!

****

RG: [stands, grabs **UNS**, forces **UNS** into her seat, leans over **UNS** in a threatening manner] Oh, I'm not finished with you quite yet. Andrew seems determined to step up his 'get Xander happy' campaign. Willow remains utterly mystified why you kept on her about relationships between various members of this household. Xander spent time after your interview threatening to roast Faith very slowly over an open pit, which is what makes his sudden involvement in Faith's personal life so surprising. I could continue the list, and much as I'm rather tempted to do so, I will merely point out that the only person who walked away from you more confident in herself was Dawn and only Vi remains unaffected by your touch. I would add Faith to the list of the unaffected, but it appears you got her in the end through Robin.

****

UNS: [raised eyebrow] That's a fairly thin thread of evidence. It wouldn't stand up in front of the Inter-Colonial Witnesser Ethical Committee.

****

RG: [returns to seat] If that's anything like the Press Complaints Commission in my native land, I'm fairly certain nothing less than a picture of you naked with a water buffalo as you accept scads of cash from a Saudi prince while singing 'O Canada!' at the top of your impressive and no doubt silicon-enhanced lungs would turn the tide in my favor.

****

UNS: [furious] Why you...[grabs breasts] I'll have you know that these are **real**.

****

RG: [unperturbed] The simple fact of the matter is, you are quite right. Most of the subtle changes can no doubt be blamed on misinformation, miscommunication, and in the case of Willow, the work of an incompetent tabloid reporter with only scandal mongering on her mind. [small smile] But I suspect you are **not** incompetent. I suspect quite the opposite, actually.

****

UNS: [taken aback] I, unh, thank you?

****

RG: You say whatever incident happened with Buffy was the result of slip of the tongue? [waves hand to stop **UNS** from speaking] I rather believe you there. You seemed quite embarrassed when I brought it up. But you clearly overstepped your bounds with Robin and what's more, you know it.

****

UNS: But...

****

RG: Please. Don't bother lying. You were far too defensive. [leans forward, troubled] The larger question that haunts me is, 'Why?'

****

UNS: [closes eyes] Off the record?

****

RG: You are the one holding the recording device. I see no choice for me in this scenario.

****

UNS: [small voice] I'm scared.

****

RG: [surprised] I don't understand.

****

UNS: [embarrassed] We're in the past and if we do something wrong...[starts again] If something goes wrong, we won't have a home. It'll be gone. All of it. Our lives. Our families. Our universe. Everything. And if that happens, no one knows what'll happen to us. We may be stuck here, or we might...we might...

****

RG: Cease to exist.

****

UNS: [nods] The thing is, I can't tell the others. They **already** think I can't pull my own weight, not that I want to pull my own weight, what I mean is...I don't know what I mean. The thing is **they're** worried about it, but if I say I'm worried about it they probably won't listen to me. I offered Catherine a suggestion to, you know, push things in the right direction but...well, most Watchers whatever Council they belong to are just too futching stubborn about what they think is right for their own good sometimes. I just...I just want to go home. I'm not a Slayer, I'm not a Watcher, Prima witch, or a doctor. I'm just me and I never, ever thought I'd be in a situation like this.

****

RG: That explains that then. But why are you talking to me?

****

UNS: You backed me in a corner and I just...look, the stuff with Willow? She was my third interview and I was still looking for a hook and that seemed the most likely because of my interview with Faith.

****

RG: Which no doubt is part of the reason why Xander was so furious after speaking to you.

****

UNS: Right. Buffy was a slip of the tongue, like I said and I honestly...it just popped out of my mouth. Dawn gave me a piece of her mind. And Violet...well...I can't say anything, except it's probably the **one** interview that went right.

****

RG: [looks doubtful]

****

UNS: It's the truth. Not that you have reason to believe me. [mutters] Hada, **I** wouldn't believe me either in your shoes.

****

RG: So at least tell me why you set out to sabotage Robin. It doesn't make any...[light dawns] Good Lord. Catherine's also shown an untoward interest in...I never would have suspected if it wasn't your blasted stunt. It's part of your timeline, isn't it?

****

UNS: You see...

****

RG: [waves hand] Good lord woman! Don't tell me! What I'm suspecting is...[stops] 'bad' is not quite the word I'm looking for. Surprising perhaps. [pauses] Or perhaps maybe not.

****

UNS: I don't...I don't understand.

****

RG: [leans back, looks thoughtful] In your poor attempt 'helping' history along, it occurs to me that you perhaps don't have the highest opinion of people. I sense a lack of trust that in the end humanity will muddle through without a deus ex machina in the form of pretty blonde reporters with captivating voices.

****

UNS: Things weren't right. They weren't what I've read and I was afraid that if I didn't do **something**...

****

RG: [sadly] Things rarely are what they were, I suspect. Perhaps events would've unfolded the same way without your help. It was blindingly obvious that Robin and Faith were not long for this world due to their conflicting personalities. At best you may have moved up the timetable by a month. Perhaps two. [glares] Even though I firmly believe that it would've been precisely one month and 11 days from today.

****

UNS: [dispirited] So you think I violated my ethics, maybe ruined my career, all for nothing.

****

RG: [sighs] Hard to suss out, that. [pauses] The human heart is a funny old thing, Ms. Tikri. I've seen it accomplish great things and stumble into foolishness. It can work miracles or it can work curses. Following your heart...and I do believe you did that in this case...

****

UNS: Fear. It was fear.

****

RG: [smiles] That, too. But you're missing my point. The heart will have its way, whether it's tomorrow or next year or the year after that. I've seen hearts pull the world back from extinction. I've seen hearts lay down their lives in a ray burning of light when the hour was darkest. I've seen hearts be willing to tear themselves asunder and Slay the one they loved to save the world. I've seen not one, but two vampires fall in love with a Slayer and I've seen that Slayer express a certain amount of affection in return. I've seen witches fall in love with werewolves, other witches, and Slayers. I've seen a high school outcast fall in love with a vain beauty queen and a normal man fall in love with a 1,200-year-old ex-demon. None of them has walked away unchanged, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. But the point is, the heart grows from that and in its own time discovers its happiness. It is well worth keeping in mind for future, I'd think.

****

UNS: [cynical] Quite the speech. Should I wave a flaming torch now to show my appreciation?

****

RG: [raises hands and smiles] You do sound quite like myself in my younger days. Although I've fairly certain I would've used the torch to set an old fuddy like myself on fire and then would've urinated on him while he writhed in pain.

****

UNS: [grins] Lovely way to ruin your image.

****

RG: [mischievous] But isn't the truth much more captivating?

****

UNS: [smiles] That it is. [pauses] I'll make you a deal. I come clean if you do.

****

RG: Oh?

****

UNS: What do you say we set the record straight? The whole truth and nothing but the truth. I'll even leave in this part of the interview

****

RG: [studies **UNS**] Deal. But only in the interest of setting the record straight on whatever god-awful assumptions your people make about us. [tilts head] I suppose that means I'll have to trust you, won't I?

****

UNS: [quietly] Deal. [louder] So, let's start. Again. [thinks about it] Why don't we start with this: is there anything you want to say to the people of the future?

****

RG: [looks directly ahead, slight smile on his face] From all the people who once were to all the people who will be: Hello...

TBC...


	49. We Can’t Rewind, We’ve Gone Too Far

****

Part 49: We Can't Rewind, We've Gone Too Far

Xander firmly told himself not to feel guilty about goofing off with Lisa and the Playstation. Everything that could be done had been done and all that was left to do was wait.

They scouted the cemetery last night and spotted the damaged crypt, but no dirt monsters; they broke into teams and came up with strategies, although he really wished someone would just forget about the damned walnuts already; and they went through final gear checks this morning.

Since sunset was still hours away, he was left with two options: bounce off the walls and wait, or get in some quality slacker time and wait.

Since bouncing off the walls meant his brain would betray him and actually start thinking about his very fucked-up life, slacker time with loud, computer-generated explosions and body counts seemed like the way to go.

Lisa whooped as her computer-generated woman stomped on his computer-generated male ass.

"Ahhhh, think you've won, hunh?" Xander nodded, eyes not leaving the screen, "Watch and learn. Your health points? Not so good. But I, the Joystick King, knoweth this: I will rise again with full health points and you will be sucking electrons."

"Joystick King, hunh?"

"King, Emperor, God, but all my friends simply call me your highness and worship at my feet," Xander said as his avatar popped back into existence. Zero on points, low on weapons and ammo, but full of health. He grinned. "Die! Diediediedie!"

Lisa's former ass-kicker exploded into a sticky red goo, allowing Xander to steal all her weapons and ammo.

"Ooooooh, I'll get even. You're not the only one who's mastered the joystick," Lisa grinned. "Mano-mano, may the best woman win."

Xander blinked and looked at her, just as Lisa's representative reformed and began beating on his electronic head. "Unh, don't know if you noticed but…"

"I noticed," Lisa said, tip of her tongue between her teeth as she concentrated, "but since I'm the only woman here, you are allowed to reach your own conclusions."

"Hey! No fair! Distracting me like that!" Xander was back to maneuvering his player in a desperate attempt to stay alive. "Cheater!"

"Says the guy that there's no such thing as cheating when it comes to Slaying," Lisa giggled.

"Video game! Video game! Different than Slaying!" Xander protested as he executed a perfect flying kick to Lisa's torso.

"Xander? Are you free?"

Xander looked up to see Giles standing in the doorway.

"Go ahead. I'm kicking your ass anyway," Lisa said with a snicker.

"You pause that game missy, because when I get my second wind…"

"I'll just kick your ass again."

"No respect, no respect," Xander grumbled good-naturedly as he ruffled Lisa's hair and the girl's giggle shot up to eleven on the loudness scale. He got up, wincing from the stiffness of sitting too long in one position, and hobbled over to Giles.

"Not here. I'd rather speak to you in private."

Xander shrugged and followed Giles through the kitchen and into the courtyard. He eased himself on the steps and watched Giles pace. "Easy there. You're gonna wear a hole in the ground."

"Xander, I've been thinking…"

"That's what you **do**," Xander interrupted. "Not a big announcement there, Giles."

"If you would let me finish," Giles snapped. He sighed. "Sorry. This has been a stressful time for all of us and the prospect of going into our first en masse battle since Sunnydale has not been balm for jangled nerves."

"Ms. Tikri must be driving you bats," Xander commented. When the Watcher gave him an irritated look, he mimed zipping his mouth shut.

Giles sighed and fought a smile. "It has been a stressful time, but I've been noticing more and more how stress sometimes brings out the worst and the best in some people."

"You're just noticing this **now**?" Xander asked. "Where the hell have you been? Even if seven years of nonstop shit raining down on your head didn't give you this big revelation, the last **year **should've pounded it through your skull."

"No need to get testy."

Xander winced. "Sorry. It's just that whenever someone starts a conversation like this, bad things are going to follow."

"Not in this case, at least I hope not." Giles watched Xander thoughtfully. "I know in our informal structure, we're all technically Watchers, including the Slayers with some experience. Sooner or later, we need to formalize the Council and its membership, if only to handle some of the difficult questions we face."

"Formalize," Xander repeated. He sighed and looked down to study his hands. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"You know, I thought about leaving," Xander admitted. "Just go off and live a normal life because I can, but…"

"But…" Giles urged as if he were hanging on Xander's every word.

Xander returned his gaze to Giles and admitted what had been bugging him about their brave new world since they landed in Cleveland. "I'm not in love with some of Robin's ideas and sometimes, I don't know, sometimes I think everyone is so busy looking at the big picture that they forget about all us little people trapped in the middle."

"I would think that our friends from the future might be loath to call you one of the 'little people.'"

"I'm not going to have my life dictated to me," Xander snarled.

"Yes. You never did let fate, destiny, **or **prophecy get in your way," Giles mused, thoughtful look back on his face. "Funny how I forgot that."

"Yeah, well, that's me. The ultimate screw-up," Xander shrugged.

"A screw-up who saved Buffy when she was sixteen even when every reliable prophecy insisted that she die," Giles commented.

Xander shifted uncomfortably under the unexpected compliment.

"The thing is, despite what little you know, I don't believe you **will** let it dictate your life."

"But I don't know anything about me, remember? Bastard enchanted that damn journal so I could only read what he thought I should read and nothing more," Xander said. "And what I read told me nothing, well, about me anyway."

"You also know that you become a Watcher and that Catherine is a direct descendant."

Xander convulsively swallowed. "Okay, those two things and one other thing, which I'm **not **getting into, but I don't know how I get there or even **if **I should go there."

Then Giles did the oddest thing: he eased himself onto the step next to Xander and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "A sensible attitude," he quietly said.

Xander's eyes narrowed as he turned to face Giles. "What's going on? You're suddenly looking at me like I'm Watcher material, aren't you? Is it because of the whole…"

"Frankly, I was thinking you were Watcher material since we got to Cleveland," Giles said with a wave of his hand. "But I didn't want to bring it up until you found your feet. We've all had some terrible losses, you especially, and no one was in any position to make any decisions."

"And I am **now**? Giles? I'm not even sure how I feel about what I **know**," Xander protested. "You're practically pushing me in a direction that I'm not sure…"

"Suits you, yes I know," Giles admitted. "And I'm not pushing you. It's your decision and you can change your mind at any time. I'm asking you to think about it."

"You must be desperate."

"I think you mean lucky."

Xander was pretty sure he looked as surprised as he felt.

"The fact is, the old Council always **did **concern itself with the big picture, the sweep of history, and the never-ending war against the darkness. Individual Slayers, individual Watchers were all interchangeable. We could all be replaced. A Slayer dies, a new one is Called. A Watcher dies…"

"..or is fired."

"…or is fired," Giles agreed with a smile, "and a new one is sent in to take his or her place. People don't matter. Emotions don't matter. Opinions don't matter. The greater good, or what the Council **perceives **is the greater good, **that's **what matters."

"Remind me **again** why I didn't like your Council buddies."

"Which is why we **need **you," Giles said. "Your insistence on individuals is a point-of-view that was sorely lacking. It's one that's doubly need now."

"I don't see why," Xander shrugged. "Slayers are even more replaceable now than they were before, that's if you follow Robin's and maybe even Buffy's reasoning."

"There may be more Slayers out there, but they **are** still people, something which tends to get lost while we focus on the big problems. Yet it seems to me you **haven't **forgotten. Much as you irritate Robin, you bring always bring up a number of salient points that are with listening to."

"And the fact that I irritate Robin isn't a nice bonus in your mind?" Xander asked slyly.

"Perish the thought. I always listen to both of you with the most impartial of minds and carefully weigh what you both have to say."

"Even if Robin would've been right at home with the old Council and I would've been shown the servant's entrance if I knocked on the front door," Xander responded with a grin.

"You would not have been shown the servant's entrance. They would've never let you on the grounds in the first place." Giles's responding grin was enough to tell Xander he was only sort of joking. "And that would've been their loss. I just don't want it to be ours."

"I'll think about it," Xander promised. "I really don't know right now."

"Take as long as you need," Giles said. "Whatever your answer, even if there's no answer at all, the offer will always stand." Giles stood up and brushed off his pants. "I must be getting inside. That awful Tikri woman wants to hear details about Buffy's early days as a Slayer and how you and Willow got involved."

"And you're just loving every minute," Xander stated.

"Certainly not," Giles sniffed. "I am merely trying to set the record straight. The misconceptions these people have about us are simply abominable."

"An outrage for the ages helped along by a little undiluted Faith," Xander agreed. Just as Giles was about to enter the door, he added, "Giles? Thanks. I will think about it, you know." Strangely enough, he realized that he actually meant it.

Giles ducked his head and Xander could almost imagine an indulgent smile on the man's face. "I have every confidence that you will. And you don't need to thank me. I think you should reserve the thanks for that extraordinary man you see in the mirror."

TBC…


	50. Voices in the Dark

****

Part 50: Voices in the Dark

Buffy's eyes ached as she strained to catch Xander's, Willow's, and Dawn's shadows in the group stealing across the lawn to the crypt. Part of her resented the fact that they were going on without her. Another part—a larger part—took unholy glee in reminding her just how many times she'd done the same thing without even looking back.

Kinda like how Xander, Willow, and Dawn weren't looking back as they cautiously climbed the steps with their team.

__

September 20.

But this is different than four-months-ago-to-the-day, right? She'll see them again and they'll talk about giant snakes with wiggy fears of walnuts and they'll show her the grail and each time the story will get bigger and better and the danger will get more dire, but only in the re-telling.

Right?

RIGHT?

Unholy glee voice-in-her-head just laughed.

For the millionth time, Buffy drew out the rough sketch and looked down at what she would have to face: a pile of dirt in the shape of a man. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. No nothing.

But it'll be all right because these aren't Turok-Hans and the First Evil isn't laying in wait. These aren't even everyday run-of-the-mill vampires.

Everything will be fine. Of course it will. And there'll be happy endings for all, even for Catherine when she gets back and single-handedly defeats her big bad with her bestest friends at her side.

__

Best of all, no one will have to die for it.

She hoped.

Then something Andrew said before Dawn dragged him into the center of the grail retrieval team hit her. She'd fluffed it off as typical Andrew geek-speak, but right here in the dark it sounded too much like a prophecy:

__

Today is a good day to die.

She turned to watch the younger Slayers nervously check their weapons as Giles whispered last-minute instructions on how to grasp a sword or mace just so.

__

September 20, she thought, forcing thoughts of Spike, Anya, and the faces of departed Slayers-in-Training out of her mind. _No one should have to die, but if die I have to, today is as good a day as any._

Faith stepped through the now-fixed door first and let her eyes adjust to the gloom. "Nope, nothing here," she called over her shoulder as she sheathed her sword and slung the scabbard across her back. For the thousandth time she checked to make sure her two throwing knives were sheathed and securely strapped on each leg. She tried not to wish that she had the spring-loaded dealie Ruda wore on her right arm to throw into the mix.

"Too much to hope that they left?" Barbara asked as the others on the grail retrieval team streamed in around her.

"What are you worried about?" Lisa asked. "We're not fighting the dirt men."

Sally whistled as she looked around. "Someone needs to hire a maid."

"Does anyone else notice that our open sarcophagus is now closed for business?" Xander asked. "The lid's been replaced."

"Guess they got that maid service, hunh?" Vi asked.

"Maybe our dirt guys shut it and fixed the door?" Faith suggested. "Makes sense if they don't want anyone sticking their noses where they shouldn't."

"Gotta love that devotion to civic duty," Robin remarked. "Okay kids, fun time over. Check weapons."

The other four present-day Slayers did as Robin ordered, giving their swords a final look before sheathing them and arranging the various weapons into something a little more comfortable to wear. Ruda, by contrast, bounced around with a grin, looking completely at ease wearing all the weapons Faith remembered from when she first saw her. The silver pin on her coat seemed to giggle in anticipation in the dim light.

Xander slipped the band of the headlamp over his head and snapped on the light. He quickly looped the strap of his crossbow over his right shoulder and adjusted the quiver slung crosswise across his back. He checked the sheathe holding the throwing axe on his right thigh and said, "I soooo need to learn how to use my left hand better."

Robin took up position by the door, his own headlamp already in place, with sword drawn while Charlie, Tikri, and J'Nal pooled around Catherine in the corner. Like their Cleveland counterparts, they were checking their weapons. Unlike their Cleveland counterparts, they did it with disciplined silence, although Tikri looked very nervous as she patted the dagger at her waist, her one weapon for self-protection.

"We ready?" Robin asked.

"How come you are all so calm?" Tikri asked. "I'm ready to throw up."

"Do it over there," Charlie pointed away from him.

"Okay, guys. Positions," Xander encouraged while Willow slipped into his line of sight with Dawn and Andrew tagging behind. Unlike everyone else, including J'Nal, all three were unarmed and unencumbered save for the headlamps on Dawn's and Andrew's heads and the backpack on Andrew's back.

Vi and Barbara braced themselves, leaning against the heavy, granite cover. When Robin gave the signal to the other team outside, they gave it a hard shove.

Faith breathed through her nose and kept a firm footing by standing in "mountain pose" as the first tremors hit, her handful of years in earthquake-prone California standing her in good stead. She noticed Xander and Willow, both life-long members of the shake-and-bake crowd, were already heading for the sarcophagus, moving as if the ground wasn't moving at all. Everyone else stumbled a little, taken by surprise by the suddenness of the earth's rebellion.

Robin recovered his feet and slammed the door shut just in time for Willow and Xander to reach the opening. While Willow peered down into the dark, Xander closed his eyes, gave his head a hard shake, and moved back a few steps.

Faith quickly joined Willow, jamming the band of her headlamp on her head. She toggled the switch and looked down. "Jesus," she breathed. "That is one steep fall."

"Unh-hunh," Willow absently agreed. With one word, "_Luminous,_" Willow transformed herself into a walking flashlight.

Faith stepped back in surprise. It wasn't so much that she didn't like magic, just that the casual reminder of Willow's hidden power caused a prickle of unease along her spine. It was too easy to forget that this chirpy, cheerful, red-headed chick could do more damage with a single thought than Faith ever thought of trying in her 'the hell with the world' phase.

"You look like Tinkerbell," Xander joked as he moved forward to stand next to Willow. "Is there a single pore that isn't lit up like Vegas?"

"I think there's one at the end of my nose," Willow giggled as she looked at her hands, "Wow. This is just…Wow."

"See? On you it looks good," Xander nodded. "If I lit up like that? People would think I went swimming in radioactive sludge. Electric blue washes out my complexion."

__

Jesus. He's not batting a fucking eyelash. Woman could tear him apart without getting her hands dirty and he's calling her fucking Tinkerbell. Faith looked around.She noticed that Dawn and Andrew looked out-and-out terrified by the display. Even Robin and the other Slayers seemed as uneasy with the Witchy Willow reminder. Catherine's group, by contrast, acted like it was just another day at the office while they fixed their headlamps in place and turned on their lights. Then again, being from the future, Willow's light show was probably nothing big, Faith figured.

"Ready?" Robin asked with a hint of impatience.

"You first, just like we planned," Xander jerked his head towards Willow.

"See ya at the bottom," Willow agreed as Robin helped her over the side and set her on the top stairs. "Yeesh. This is going to be fun just getting down."

"Take your time. We don't need anyone getting hurt in the first five seconds," Robin cautioned as everyone gathered round to watch Willow's descent.

Faith noticed Xander peek down to watch Willow's progress, but he again did that odd close-eyes-shake-head-step-back routine. His right hand clenched the edge of the sarcophagus so hard that his knuckles were white.

__

The hell? He's not **afraid** is he? Faith wondered. Except it didn't quite fit with what she knew about him. _This guy plays with Slayers on a regular basis and manages to do his share of whup ass, so what's the deal?_

Faith could hear Willow's muttering voice fade as she descended. If she didn't know any better, she'd think that Willow was issuing a stream of swears that would make the world's ears burn were anyone able to pick out anything resembling a word. After a long wait, Willow called up, "Okay. At the bottom. Be careful because the stairs aren't so great. We need to file a complaint with the local disabilities commission because there is **sooooo **no wheelchair access."

"You've been hanging around Xander far too long," Robin shouted down while Xander stifled a laugh. The ex-principal turned to the rest of the group. "Okay, first me, then Catherine and her people, then the rest. Got it?" When he got silent nods in agreement, Robin sheathed his sword, pulled himself over the edge, and began his own descent.

Robin's trip was silent, so when he called up Faith jumped at the unexpected intrusion of his voice. "Willow's right. The stairs are tricky. We need to go down one at a time because one misstep, you'll tumble right to the bottom."

"And the last thing we need is to show our resemblance to domino-like things," Xander shouted down.

"Right in one," Robin's voice floated back. If Faith didn't know better, she'd think he sounded somewhat amused.

And so began the long process of the grail retrieval team descending into the darkness one-by-one and calling up their safe arrival to the next person.

Xander had fallen silent, occasionally looking down the opening, only to again back up and shake his head with eyes closed, as if he were overwhelmed with the very idea of walking down those stairs.

As the last of their team began the trip down below—baring Xander and Faith—the Slayer moved to Xander's side. "You're up next, Cyclops."

"I'll go down last," Xander said.

"Unh, no. Gotta bring up the rear in case we get trouble of the dirt kind from behind," Faith said. "Me superpowered chick, you not so much."

Xander looked into the hole again before squeezing his eyes tight. "I'm going to be a real long time, so you waiting up here is…"

"What's your deal?" Faith asked. "You ain't nervous are ya?"

Xander shot her and angry glare.

"I didn't call you chickenshit," Faith hastily added, "But I can tell you're not loving the idea…"

"The stairs are making me dizzy."

"…of going down…What?" Faith asked as her brain finally caught up with what Xander said.

Xander clenched his jaw, absolutely hating to admit what he obviously felt he had to admit. "Vertigo. I get it when I'm up high and there's nothing around for me to get my bearings."

"You have a thing about heights?"

"Didn't when I had two eyes."

Faith wanted to smack herself. "Awww, shit. I totally forgot."

"Says the woman who calls me Cyclops," Xander dispiritedly said. "Look, I've learned to deal with regular stairs and sidewalk curbs by just taking my time and thinking through what I'm doing. And if I'm in a tall building, I just don't go near the windows. But this," he waved helplessly down the stairs, "I've got no handholds, nothing to focus on going down, a lot of shadows. Basically, I'm fucked. Only way I can see going down is crawling down backwards using my hands and feet."

Faith couldn't imagine a more undignified way of announcing a weakness. "No you don't. You can use me."

"How?"

"Easy. I go down first, you stick close and put your hands on my shoulders and focus on my back. We'll take it nice and slow."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. We'll get to the bottom with no trouble."

"But not necessarily in one piece," Xander protested. "Clutzy me with the bad one eye-hand coordination, remember? I trip, we go down, I die and you're at least dealing with broken bones."

"Not going to happen," Faith said with more certainty than she felt as she lightly leapt onto the opening's edge. "We'll be fine. Just you watch. Besides, I feel you slip? I can just brace myself against the walls on either side and **you **won't be going nowhere."

Xander frowned a moment as he studied Faith's face. "Okay. Worth a try."

"Right," Faith nodded. "Let's get into position."

"You ready?" Vi shouted up from the darkness.

"On our way. Keep your undies on," Faith shouted back as she held out her hand to help Xander get over the sarcophagus sides and onto the first step.

It took some doing to get started, but they were soon picking their way down the stairs. Xander's fingers dug into Faith's shoulders in a painfully tight grip that made even the Slayer wince, so she bit her lip and concentrated on the sound of his crossbow ticking against quiver of crossbow bolts on his back. His warm breath tickled past her right ear as she quietly said, "step," every time they moved down.

A few times Xander needed to pause and reorient himself as the angle and movement threatened to overwhelm his balance. Faith braced herself with her hands flat against the walls on either side while she sensed Xander bringing his breathing under control and adjusting the heft of his weapons. She suspected that had he been making the trip alone he wouldn't have stopped to give himself time and that he was only calling the short breaks simply because he was afraid of getting her hurt if they fell.

A soft word from him and they were off again, once more picking their way downward, Faith's rhythmic, "step…step…step," the only thing breaking the sound of shifting weapons.

During one such pause, the last one before they hit the bottom in fact, Faith found the nerve to ask the question that had been nagging her since Willow cast her spell. "Hey, X-man," she said quietly.

There was a pause before the whispered, "Yeah?"

"You and Willow. You guys are good buds, right?"

"Yeah." The whisper revealed both a question and a suspicion.

"So that's probably why you don't freak like everyone else when she struts her witchy stuff."

There was an uncomfortable shifting behind her accompanied by the sounds of weapons being adjusted, although she wasn't sure if it was Xander reacting to what she said or because he was trying to regain his sense of equilibrium.

"I mean," Faith tried to explain, "she's got a lot of power and that shit can be scary shit."

"Because she could wipe us all out with one word."

A shiver went down Faith's spine at the whispered acknowledgement that Xander knew, probably better than anyone else, what exactly Willow was capable of doing in bad circumstances. Shit. If Xander could say it…she'd heard vague stories about Willow doing some dark deeds with that power, but she didn't want to think too much about it because that would be too much like looking in a mirror.

"Yeah," she whispered back. "Something like that."

There was another pause before she felt Xander's chin resting on her shoulder, warm breath close, lips practically brushing her right ear, "Faith? Every single person in our happy little Slayer cult is capable of cold-blooded murder. All of us. Buffy. Robin. Giles. Andrew. Willow. You. Even me."

Faith swallowed and stared straight ahead and tried not to think about the point Xander was trying to make.

"I learned that lesson the hard way, so I make sure never to forget," Xander added quietly. "And neither should you."

He suddenly pulled back and in a louder voice he said, "I'm ready now."

Faith nodded with a shaky head and began, "Step…step…step…"

They didn't pause again or talk beyond that until the reached the bottom.

TBC…


	51. Getting Down and Dirty

****

Part 51: Getting Down and Dirty

This is not going well at all.

Funny the things that go through your head while a dirt monster dribbles your head like a basketball.

Nope. Definitely not well, Buffy thought as she managed to squirm away, woozily retreating to the relative safety of three feet away.

Susan flew past her, airborne with a look of resignation on her face until she smacked into a tree.

Buffy incongruously giggled at the sight as the birdies twittering around her own head began singing in harmony with the birdies circling Susan's. She stumbled over to the younger woman, tripped, and fell across the prone Slayer.

"I changed me mind," Susan mumbled. "Bring on snake."

Buffy shook her head and forced her scrambled brains into coherence. No one expected the dirt guards to show up so **fast**. She figured there'd be a little breaking free of the ground a la new vampire, a little time to orient everyone so they can pick their targets.

But nooooooooo. Robin gives the sign, slams the door shut, and these guys just appear from thin air and go nuts.

How embarrassing. She's getting trounced by things made of **dirt**. Her street cred was going down. She could just see it now. Fighting a vampire and getting taunted by the ugly bumpy about not being willing to get down and dirty.

She was **sooooo **going to kill Xander for this. Dead. The deadest guy in deadonia by the time she was through with him.

Giles huffed up to her, eyeglasses skewed, and immediately dropped down to check both hers and Susan's status.

"I'm fine, I think," Buffy said as she slapped him away. "Susan's…"

"Better," the other Slayer shook her head and opened her eyes wide as she worked her jaw. "This Slayer healing is the shit."

"Glad you like it," Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Now that you're back, we have a significant problem," Giles said.

"Bigger than the one we got now? I can't wait," Buffy deadpanned.

"Our friends are heading for the crypt," Giles pointed out with a toss of his head. "Look."

Buffy vaulted to her feet and turned around in time to see the dirt thingies edging their way through the fighting Slayers. All of them were converging on one point. _How the hell do they know?_ Buffy wondered as reality registered.

"Oh crap!" Buffy yelled. "Guys! They're going after the other team!"

"No shit!" Kennedy yelled back. "A hand over here would be really good right now!"

Buffy was off and running to Kennedy's aid. "KEEP THEM AWAY FROM THAT CRYPT!"

* * *

Xander felt disorientated as he picked his way through the cavern and wondered if he was two-eye having if he'd be having this much trouble. He didn't dare put a hand on his crossbow or load it. He was too afraid of tripping and sending a bolt flying through someone's head.

Willow softly glowed in the lead, hands at the ready like the magical prizefighter she was, as Robin and Vi flanked her with swords drawn in a protective move. J'Nal was in the rear and Xander imagined that his stance was probably similar as Ruda and Barbara guarded his back. Dawn and Andrew walked slightly ahead, Dawn resting a hand on Andrew's shoulder in an attempt to keep the other language expert steady. As for him, he was snuggled tight in the middle and wondered how the hell he happened to be surrounded by a warm cocoon of top-notch fighters.

The shadows seemed to leap and move as the multiple light sources picked out this detail and that, following the line of sight of everyone on their guard. More than once he felt his footing trip over things that weren't there. Yet just as he felt himself start to stumble Faith somehow appeared from nowhere to place a light, steadying hand at just the right spot in a movement so small that it could be easily missed.

Why? Xander wondered, as he felt himself nodding a silent thanks to Faith for again catching him. _Why the hell is she doing this?_

He didn't even want to consider that on some level Faith probably felt bad for him. Pity was the last thing he wanted or needed from anyone. God knows he'd been trying so hard to downplay the problems he'd had adjusting to one-eyed life to the point that he was laughing at jokes that didn't strike him as remotely funny. Maybe he'd been trying too hard. Maybe Robin had a point.

Don't do this, not now, Xander thought. But he hated feeling so…helpless. Not that he had never felt helpless before. It was feeling helpless over something as relatively minor as stumbling through an underground tunnel that bothered him.

"Looks like it gets wider up ahead." Faith again providing commentary for the blind. Or near-blind in this case.

The group moved into an opening almost as large as the library back at the motherhouse. Xander felt pathetically happy that the ground seemed relatively free of rock litter, leaving the granular dark soil clear enough for him to run laps if he wanted to.

Willow whispered a word and her candlepower shot up, casting the area in a soft blue-ish light bright enough to fool his eye into thinking it was an overcast day.

"GE. We bring good things to life," Faith nervously joked next to him.

Xander noticed Dawn putting on a brave face while Andrew cowered behind her. Hell, even Robin seemed off-balance and he didn't see Willow when…

He snapped off the thought and strode over to Willow's side. "Nice. Except I don't see a grail. Do you see a grail?"

"Dead end," Willow frowned as she slowly turned. "Maybe those three tunnels over there?"

"Except they lead away," Robin countered as he tapped his compass. "Summers is in that direction and I see a blank wall with some rocks in front of it."

"Maybe behind the rocks?" Catherine asked.

"Roll a D-20 to find out," Andrew said.

"Worth a shot," Xander agreed, pointedly ignoring Andrew. "Ladies?"

Ruda, Vi, Faith, Barbara, Lisa, and Sally got to work, shifting the rocks around with ample grunting punctuated by some colorful exclamations from Faith.

Catherine's instincts were on the money. The Slayers shifted an especially large boulder that revealed a new passage beyond. Near as Xander could tell, the fissure promised more cramped traveling of the single-file kind. An icicle finger of warning ran down his spine, a sure sign of some major mojo in the area. Last time he felt that was when Willow cast the spell spreading the Slayer power.

Faith swiped a sweaty strand of hair out of her eyes. "Next time? **You **move the fucking rocks. Big strong men my ass."

"You want me to open a jar of pickles and reach things off high shelves, I'm your man," Xander said, mentally forcing the icicle away. "You want me to be Superman? That's **your **job."

"You two will be arguing about who should have the babies next," Vi giggled.

"You mean the stork doesn't send 'em?" Dawn interrupted with a joke. "Damn. Lied to by society again."

Ruda shook her head in exasperation and zipped through the revealed the opening.

"Ruda!" Catherine shouted as she darted forward. She slammed into her Slayer just as girl reappeared.

"Ow!" Ruda complained rubbing a spot on her chest while Catherine bounced back a few steps from the force of the impact. She immediately brightened. "Hey guys! The passage isn't that long. There's an even **bigger **room on the other side and guess what? Graaaaail."

"Now is the time for me to roll a D-6," Andrew muttered.

Right on cue a low growl echoed through the tunnels. (Yaaaaaaawn!)

"Snake?" Andrew nervously asked.

Robin and Xander exchanged glances before agreeing in unison, "Snake."

"Shit," Faith commented.

"Teamwork that splinters the team…" Xander said quietly to himself. He added in a louder voice, "Okay, idea here: Catherine? Get your people inside. Dawn? Andrew? Go with them. Faith? Willow? You go, too. Rest of us will distract it."

Catherine nodded. "You heard him, you slugs. Let's get moving."

"Ooooo, tough talk. Kinky," Charlie waggled his eyebrows. Catherine's bark of a laugh was obviously what he was looking for and he flashed a grin of triumph as he moved to Ruda's side."

"It's coming together," J'Nal agreeably nodded. "I can feel it."

"Glad you can," Tikri said. Every little noise resulted in yet another small hop from the nervous reporter, putting Xander in mind of a jumpy bunny. She suspiciously looked down at the dagger. "Should have gone for the sword."

"Yousaid you'd cut your own head off with it," Charlie said.

"You were the one who insisted on me bringing the sword and you were right," Tikri backed up, waving the knife in front of her as if she expected the snake to burst out of solid rock.

"Mostly because I was hoping you'd actually…"

"Charlie," Catherine warned in a not-so-friendly-now manner.

A long, drawn-out hiss seemed to come from everywhere. (Who woke me up? I was having this great dream about this hot babe and just when I was about to…Ooo. Hate that.)

"Not a chance." Faith got into fighting stance. "Sounds like you need all the help you can get."

"You heard her mister," Willow stomped over in resolve face.

"Between Robin, Vi, Lisa, Barbara, and Sally, we'll be fine," Xander argued back. He added in a lower tone as he watched Robin carefully approach the various entrances, listening intently for any telltale signs of movement, "Someone needs to watch Dawn's back. Ruda's got enough to worry about with her people."

Faith blew a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. "You're blowing steam up my skirt, aren't you?"

"You catch on fast," Willow agreed as her eyes narrowed.

"Is it working?" Xander asked.

Faith grimaced. "Looking at a ton of reasons why you're wrong starting with the fact **you're **supposed to be present and accounted for when they boost the grail."

A lazy hiss made it harder for Xander to think of a good reason why he shouldn't retreat to relative safety of the grail's location. Another icicle finger ran up his spine. Oh. Right. Big-time magic. (Mmmmm, hungry…hey? Do I smell food?)

"Unh, guys," Dawn said nervously.

"Now would be a very good time," Ruda practically stamped with frustration.

"I can't explain it," Xander said as he nervously scanned the immediate area. "Gut feeling tells me to stay put."

"Look, Xander, I can dig the whole 'you're-not-the-boss-of-me' deal you've got going with the frigging book, but **Jesus**…" Faith began.

"That's not…" Xander began his protest.

"Still can't tell where it's coming from," Robin interrupted. "So if we're getting into defensive positions, now is the time to do it."

Andrew drew out the bag of walnuts from his backpack, threw it in Xander's direction, and ran to Ruda's side. "Ithinkweneedtogetgoing," he breathlessly said.

Faith caught it in mid-flight and handed it off to Xander. "Gut feeling, hunh?"

"Gut feeling," Xander agreed.

Willow threw up her hands. "I **hate **when you do that. There's no arguing with you."

"Do I have to like it?" Faith asked.

"No." Xander reached out and grabbed Willow's elbow, ignoring Faith's slight start of surprise. "Willow? I'm getting a real bad vibe from the mojo around here."

Willow's eyebrows and drew tight. "Let me get this straight: **You** can sense the spell?"

"Unh, dunno," Xander fumbled, surprised that Willow was surprised he felt something. The press of magic was so strong he thought sure everyone felt it. "I just have the feeling that something laid a real whammy down back there, so be careful."

Faith's eyes tracked back and forth between the two of them. "I don't feel nothin'."

"You're not a witch, so why would you?" Willow asked as she grabbed Xander by his collar and pulled him down, staring intently into his face. "I don't get a threat off it. Not sure what I feel, actually. So how…"

"Me. Magic. Not good combo," Xander said. "I don't know."

"Could be a repel spell to keep you out," Willow nodded.

"Unh, could be. Gotta be a reason, right?" Xander agreed, suddenly getting the idea that admitting he felt something similar on Kingman's Bluff and during their battle with the First would be a very bad thing to admit. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Willow seemed to buy it. Faith's eyes narrowed to slits, silently accusing him of laying a whooper on her during dire circumstances. _Great. Just great. When the hell did Faith even bother to learn figuring me out? Go glare at someone else Slaygirl,_ Xander thought as he gave Faith a who-are-you-looking-at face.

Something that sounded a lot like a snarl caused the three of them to jump. (You know? I could use a snack. How long have I been sleeping anyway?)

"We have to move right now!" Catherine shouted.

Willow grimaced. "Fine. Be careful." She turned on her heel and joined Catherine and her nervous crew, Andrew, and Dawn.

"Faith?" Xander tentatively asked as the Slayer turned away. "Watch her back, too."

Faith looked over her shoulder, gave a slight nod, and moved to Catherine's group.

Xander turned, hefting the bag of walnuts in his hands. _Unbelievable. This is not going to work._

Robin's dark hand reached out, grabbed the bag, and ripped it open.

"You can't be **serious**," Xander protested.

A hiss followed by sounds of slithering movement caused his heart to leap into his throat. (Heeeeeere protein, protein, protein.)

Robin paused before drawing out a handful of nuts. "Right about now, I'd throw nasty thoughts at the damn thing if I thought it would work."

"Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition," Vi agreed, holding out her hand for the bag.

TBC…


	52. Meet the Frying Pan

****

Part 52: Meet the Frying Pan

They managed to beat back the dirty creatures to an area on the other side of the cemetery road using a lot of tai chi throwing moves.

It was something at least.

Buffy spun in a roundhouse kick and whooped when dirty guy stumbled back half a step. Her victory was short-lived as another one tackled her from behind. She managed to twist herself free of its grasp before hitting the ground. She rolled away and rocked herself back to her feet.

They were fighting three-to-one, not terrible odds but not great. Problem was they were also fighting things that didn't get tired unlike, say, a baker's dozen worth of Slayers and one Watcher.

Buffy drew a deep breath and retreated a little more, eyes fixed on the battle raging among the graves. _There has to be a weakness. There **has **to be,_ she desperately thought. _At best we're fighting to a draw and time's on their side. They can wait us out and win._

Try as hard as she might, she simply couldn't see a pattern. There was no landed punch, to strike, no kick that revealed a weak spot. She shouldn't have been surprised. In essence they were fighting animated inanimate objects, not flesh-and-blood things with Achilles heels.

Tammi got kicked out of play and momentum bounced her across the ground. Buffy took off to retrieve her and help her to her feet.

"So much for Xander's rule," Tammi grumbled as she grasped Buffy's hand.

"Xander's rule? I'm afraid to ask."

"When all else fails, go for the eyes. Everything has eyes."

"Yeesh," Buffy cringed. "Was this before or after Caleb?"

"Before." Tammi gave her head a hard shake. "Do you see eyes? I don't see eyes."

"Yeah, well, it **is **good advice," Buffy admitted, trying very hard to make the image of Xander's blood-covered agonized face go away. "Except, y'know, when it's not."

"GUYS!" Andrea screamed as seven dirt bags converged on her position.

"Time for me to hit them with my face a little more," Tammi remarked. "Coming?"

"In a sec. Trying to see if there's a fighting pattern or a weakness we can exploit," Buffy said, eyes desperately scanning the fight.

"Don't take too long, o great leader," Tammi snipped as she zipped back in the fray.

Buffy bit her lip. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Damn it! Show me something!"

Her desperate study was interrupted when she saw Giles backhanded to the ground. "Hey!" she yelled as she rocketed towards the offending thing. "Hands off my Watcher!"

* * *

Willow was glowing so brightly that was hard to make out her features.

Faith looked around the cavern and softly whistled as she took in the glittering multicolored stalactites and stalagmites, the ornate carvings on the walls, and the Grail—at long last with a capital 'G' in her mind—set on a raised stone platform. Only two words for it: Wicked. Awesome.

Catherine's eyes widened, her dark eyes reflecting the glory of the Grail. She hungrily surged forward, but was stopped when Faith's arm shot out, checking her in her progress.

The Watcher Honoria spun around into a fighting stance.

"Wait," Faith cautioned, "no way it's gonna be that easy."

"Sorry," Catherine hunched. "I just…we need…"

"I know," Faith nodded at her. She jerked her head to the walls. "Yo! Dawn! Are we just looking at pretty, or is there something useful over there?"

Dawn cautiously stepped forward, eyes scanning the carvings. "So far, pretty. Nothing so far…wait!" She touched the rock face, fingers tapping over the carvings. "I'm seeing something resembling ogham in this."

"Ogham?" Faith asked.

"Celtic alphabet." Dawn swore under her breath. "Not overly familiar with this one but at least I've seen it before. I can pick out the repeating pattern and I know a few words but…I need time."

"Take it," Faith agreed. "Andrew? Witchy-poo?"

"Witchy-poo?" Willow asked.

"We're going to check out the area around the Grail."

Catherine cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but I do believe…"

"Fine. J'Nal can come with," Faith sighed.

"But…" Catherine began her protest.

"Question. What happens if the snake gets by our backwatchers?" Faith asked as she mentally added, _Damn, I rock. Worth us taking a first look at this thing. I don't fucking care **what **Xander's journal says about it not belonging to us._

Catherine studied her through narrowed eyes, a clear sign that the Watcher Honoria knew she was being played and played but good.

Faith maintained as close to an innocent expression as she could get.

"Ruda," Catherine started, eyes not leaving Faith's face, "stand guard at the entrance. Charlie, take Tikri off to the side and wait."

"But…" Charlie began.

"I don't want to risk you if I can help it," Catherine interrupted. "There's still fighting going on and we might need your skills later rather than sooner."

"Oh goody," Tikri muttered. "More quality time for the two of us."

Catherine leaned over. "For the record, I'm not happy about this."

"For the record, you said you wouldn't even be here if you were in our shoes." Faith suspected that her –rah and –sen titles were getting flushed down Catherine's mental toilet during this battle of wills. Fuck it. She wasn't in the mood for diplomacy games. Catherine can't deal? Her fucking problem.

Catherine let out an irritated huff of breath, drew her sword, and went to stand by Ruda.

Faith turned, grabbed Andrew by the scruff of the neck, ignored his squeaky protest, and cautiously approached the Grail. Time seemed to slow down as Faith let every Slayer sense reach out just in case whoever put the Grail here packed in one last punch to the gut. No one was more shocked than she was when the four of them reached the raised platform without one whiff of a trap.

"Too. Fucking. Easy." Faith glowered at the Grail as if it had ruined her good time.

"With you," Willow nodded as she slowly circled platform, no doubt looking for hidden surprises.

"I say count our blessings," Andrew said in a nervous-cheerful voice. "The D-8 came up in our favor."

"Oh crap!" Dawn's voice echoed. "Looks like there's another language tangled up with the ogham. I can't read it."

Faith's eyes didn't leave the Grail, mostly because she was afraid that a break in her attention might lead to trouble. "Why not?" she called back. "Not of this world?"

"Unh, sort of. It looks more demon-y than future-y, but I'm not sure," Dawn's answer echoed back.

"Andrew? Go look," Faith ordered.

The guy practically saluted and beat feet over to Dawn's position. Within moments everyone had an answer. "S'nargle. I sort of know this one. Looks like they were swapping letters and words between the two languages." Andrew's voice had shifted to certainty as he engaged the one talent he had over everyone else in Cleveland.

"Can you translate?" Willow asked.

"Sort of," Andrew said, his voice suddenly less sure, "I think between Dawn and me we've got a good chance at success."

"Do it. See if there's something we should know tucked in there," Faith said as Willow completed her circuit.

"I got nothin'," Willow frowned.

"No writing on the platform anywhere," J'Nal said. "Only writing I see is on the Grail itself."

Faith looked at Willow. "You wanna do it? Or should I?"

"Do you think that's wise?" J'Nal asked. "Maybe I should…"

"We'll do it," Faith stated. "Not that I'm hyped about the chances of us getting even close."

"Don't wanna do it any more than you do, but there's only one way we're going to find out if there's a trap of the booby kind," Willow pointed out.

"Right. Me Slayer. Me do," Faith nodded. She reached out, half expecting an axe to swoop down from the ceiling and cut her hand clean off.

What she got instead was a little bit of a shock.

Actually, it was more like a big shock.

Just as her fingertips crossed the edge of the stone platform, Faith felt an electric current drill its way through every nerve ending. She let out an agonized scream as her back hyperextended before she was blown across the room. The grey haze of pain shut down into black when she hit the rock wall.

* * *

Xander swiped away the sweat on his forehead with his left sleeve while his right hand clutched his handful of nuts.

ROOOOWWWWWWWL!  
(Know what I love? Dumb dinners. Staying put in the same place is just not smart.)

Christ, that thing sounded yooooooge.

"Anyone else feel like running?" Sally asked.

"If we start running, just follow the Violet-shaped blur," Vi nervously giggled.

"It's official. Things are now fucked," Xander grumbled.

RUMMMMMMROAR!  
(I'm gonna getchya little dinner. I'm gonna getchya right now…)

"They weren't before?" Robin asked as he poised himself for a first-class pitcher's throw.

"Vi's flying her geek colors. That's never of the good," Xander explained.

"Geek colors?" Robin asked.

Before Xander could answer, a reptilian snout poked its nose into their suddenly too-small retreat.

"Hol-eeee shit," Barbara prayed.

"That is One. Big. Snake," Robin agreed.

A tongue flicked out, causing Xander to jump.

"Hold your fire until we see the whites of its eyes," Robin ordered.

"Unh, Robin? We **lost **at Bunker Hill," Xander nervously said, "I slept through middle school and high school history and even **I** know that."

"Got a better idea?" Robin asked.

HISSSSSS!  
(One…two…three…ready or not, here I come!)

Xander turned his head to look at Robin to his right. "Can we run now?"

The snake thrust its head through at lightening speed, forcing the intrepid sextet to back up slightly faster.

HIIIIIIIISSSSSS!  
(Goody! I get to play with dinner!)

"Now!" Robin shouted.

All six let loose with—and Xander would be the first to admit this—a pathetically small volley of walnuts, all of which landed square on the snake's snout.

For a brief moment, the universe held its breath while the six waited to see what happened and the snake—which looked rather surprised for something that went through life with a fixed expression—stared back.

"Well, that went over about as well as a fart in a space suit," Xander dryly remarked.

RUR?  
(The hell?)

"You and your goddamn jokes," Robin hissed as Xander loaded his crossbow and everyone else drew their swords.

"I **told **you, but did you listen? Nooooooooo," Xander snarled back as he let loose with a bolt, aiming for the monster's eye. Never let it be said that he wasn't willing to use a tactic that was once used on himself to great effect.

The snake moved—_Christ! How can something that **big **slither so fast?—_ and the bolt missed its mark, bouncing harmlessly off the scales.

Xander retreated to load his crossbow again while Robin yelled, "Attack!" and lead the charge forward.

TBC…


	53. Philosophy of the Slay: A Group Project

****

Part 53: Philosophy of the Slay: A Group Project by Buffy Summers, Faith Lanoire, and Alexander Harris

THWAK!

WHAP!

SMACK!

"You know…" Kennedy sounded almost philosophical. A neat trick since she was also out of breath. "Being a Slayer? Not nearly as much fun as I thought it would be."

WHAM!

POW!

CRUNCH!

"Never is," Buffy replied. "Duck!"

"Duck? Where?" Kennedy asked.

A dirt monster slammed a fist into the back of Kennedy's head, knocking her down. In a smooth move, she rolled and back-flipped on to her feet.

"That never gets old." It was Buffy's turn to sound philosophical. She crouched as a hand whistled through the empty air over her head.

"Glad you're amused," Kennedy dryly replied.

KICK!

KER-CHUNK!

BAM!

"Yeah, well, I make fun because I love," Buffy said.

FLIP! FLIP! FLIP!

SLAM!

WHAPA-WHAPA-WHAPA!

"Seriously, though," Kennedy threw a haymaker at the closest target. "How can you tell the difference between a good fight and a bad fight?"

POW! POW! POW!

SWISH!

OW!

Buffy scrambled to her feet, trying not to rub the bruise that she just knew was forming on her cheekbone. "A good fight…" she paused as she danced away from a rapidly arriving elbow to her face. She tried again. "A good fight is when you don't have to trowel on the make-up the next morning to hide the black-and-blue badness."

"Ahhhh," Kennedy nodded as she tore a small headstone out of the ground and tossed it at a dirt man's head. "And a bad fight?"

One of the dirty many grabbed Buffy by her collar and lifted her off the ground. She had just enough time to say, "I think this pretty much qualifies."

KER-BLAM!

The world resolved into black and white. Faith shook her head to bring color back into her vision, only to have it explode into angry reds and bright oranges.

And pain. Can't forget the pain.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," she softly groaned.

"She's coming to!" shouted a male voice.

Faith blindly reached out, grabbed hold of some cloth, and shook. "Shut. Up."

"Gug…"

A hand curled around her fistful of cloth. "Faith, you're strangling Charlie," a soft voice said.

Faith let go, registered the sound of someone falling backwards, and slit open her eyes to see the worried face of Catherine looking down at her.

"Welcome back to the world," the Watcher Honoria grinned. "Your flight was interrupted by a wall."

She heard some muffled sounds of fighting echoing through the chamber.

"Wha…" Faith began.

"We think they found the snake. Or it found them," Willow's worried face popped into view.

"Can you get up?" Catherine asked.

Faith crawled stiffly to her feet and felt the familiar kick followed by a tingle signaling that superfast healing was finally getting to work. While there was no way she'd be at 100 percent any time before tomorrow, at least she'll be able to move without passing out.

"Ruda?" Faith asked.

"Standing by the entrance in case the monster on the other side gets past the others," Catherine said. "You were injured just about the time the fight started, so she's staying put. She knows her duty."

"Go," Faith winced at the sound of her own voice echoing in her head. "Sounds to me if it gets by Xander, Robin, and the others we'll knee deep in the shit. I'll get over there as soon as I find my head."

Catherine nodded and swirled away.

Faith's vision greyed slightly and she felt Willow's hand catch her elbow.

"Turn down the light, will ya? You're not fucking helping," Faith complained.

"Sorry." Willow mumbled a word and killed her glow, plunging the cavern into darkness. Scattered headlamp lights indicated where everyone was.

"HEY!" several voices shouted in unison.

"I'll turn it on in a sec!" Willow shouted back, causing Faith to wince at the volume. "Faith's all headache-y, so let me help her first."

"Shit," Faith hissed as her hands slowly traveled up her face. She felt cuts and bruises, but no headband.

"Your personal light got a little crunchy in the fall," Willow said.

"Ah. An' whaddya doin' here?" Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "Grail?"

"J'Nal figured he better do some tests and see if he can't breach the barrier before we try again." Willow jerked her head in the direction Faith guessed the Grail was located.

The Slayer leaned against the cavern wall to get her bearings and—_slowly, slowly,_ she reminded herself—opened her eyes a little wider and looked around.

In the center of the chamber J'Nal was pacing around the raised platform, hands gracefully gesturing in front of him, as the air around the Grail crackled and slightly glowed.

"He's exciting the molecules that are holding the spell together," Willow explained, not that Faith could really follow what she was saying. "It's not exactly an anti-spell, more like oblique force the makes the spell turn on itself. Think of it as hitting something at an angle instead of head on or in a T-crash."

"Do you understand it?" Faith asked.

Willow threw the other witch a worried look. "Sort of. The mechanics are pretty clear-cut, but I'm not entirely sure how you can do something like that without setting off a an out-of-control chain reaction."

"Which would be bad?"

"Ever hear of nuclear bomb?"

"Well, yeah."

"Same principle, only you've got it happening on a controlled, microscopic level. One wrong step and all the cute little booms become one big fatal boom."

"Terrific." Faith finally felt brave enough to stand on her feet without support. "Why didn't you do something like that before I stuck my finger in a goddamn light socket?"

"I didn't know you **could **do something like that," Willow admitted. "J'Nal explained it to me. Theory I get. Practice? Too scared to even try."

Faith swallowed down the nauseous feeling. "So what you're telling me is that their witch could beat our witch if it came to a smackdown?"

Willow's eyebrows lowered and there was a flash of something in her eyes that immediately made Faith regret even thinking of asking that question. Without a doubt, when it came to magic, Willow had a pride in her talents that could easily be of the before-the-fall variety.

"Tough call," all trace of Geek Girl was gone from Willow's voice. "It's not that he's more powerful, I know I have that on my side. It's just that he really knows how to use what he's got."

"Let's not test it," Faith quickly said.

Willow gave her a tight nod, and went over to Dawn and Andrew, once against powering up her inner light as she traversed the cavern.

Faith let out a breath, swiped her hair out of her face, and tried to calm her screaming Slayer sense. _Fuck me. And Xander called her Tinkerbell? Boy's an idiot or has a death wish. Can't figure out which._

Barbara flipped way from the snake's flashing jaws. While a nice move, one Xander certainly could appreciate for its sheer Gold Medal-worthy beginning, if he were the Russian judge he'd be shaving points off for her landing.

Especially since she landed right into him.

He fell to the ground tangled up with one yelping Slayer and watched helplessly as his crossbow skittered away from him.

"Barbara," he began as he extracted himself and yanked the girl to her feet, "word of advice: when you're surrounded by people helping you fight in close quarters, do **not **go all _Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon_."

"Sorry," she apologized.

Robin danced backwards and Xander discovered that he really, really wanted that sword in the other man's hands, especially since he'd lost his primary weapon and all he had was a tiny throwing axe that would do shit-all against a scale-clad monster with big sharp teeth.

Vi had managed to get close and give the snake a good jab with her sword, but didn't manage to draw blood.

HISSSSS!  
(Hey! Watch where you're sticking that thing!)

With a flick of a tail, Vi discovered that sliding on gravel hurt like hell, something Xander could've told her considering he'd had so much experience.

Robin reached his side, "Okay, walnuts didn't work. Can you remember anything else?"

Xander hungrily coveted his neighbor's sword, but since knocking Robin out and stealing his weapon was a good idea only in the world of video games, he would just have to live with the burning envy.

"Something about teamwork splitting the team…" Xander began.

"Guys! Help!" Lisa screamed as she kept smacking the snake in the snout as its tongue harassed her.

GGRRRRR!  
(Hold still little mousy. Hoooooold stiilllll….)

"Vi, Barbara, Sally! Help her!" Robin snapped while Xander desperately searched his brain for the words that he once believed were burned into it.

"Wait, that's it!" Xander reached out and grabbed Robin. "Teamwork that splinters the team. We have to split up again!"

"Are you out of your mind!" Robin yelled back.

"No, no! It makes sense," Xander waved at the cave that lead to the others. "If that thing is guarding the grail…"

"Looks more like it's trying to eat us," Robin pointed out.

"Whatever. But we **have **to get it away from the entrance and we've got four tunnels to choose from to make it chase us. The one we came in and the three spares," Xander said.

Four Slayers let out a unified yelp as the snake tried to scoop them up in one swallow.

Robin let out a huff of breath. "Worth a shot."

"Right," Xander nodded as he charged over to the Slayers. "Ladies, we gotta split up!"

"Head for one of the tunnels," Robin shouted as he followed Xander. "Make a lot of noise when you get in there so we'll be able to draw it down at least one of the passages."

"Are you **nuts**?" Sally bounced away from the snake on the balls of her feet, sword at the ready.

"We have to draw that thing away, so try to get it to chase you," Xander said as he edged for one of the three tunnels. "Maybe we can trap it in there and finish it off. Meet back here when you figure out that it's not chasing you."

"This has to be the stupidest idea," Vi growled as she grabbed Barbara and charged for one of the tunnels.

"Right!" Sally agreed as she grabbed Lisa and zipped to a different tunnel.

Xander sprinted to a tunnel while he heard Robin's sword make a dull metallic clang against the snake's skin, probably to distract monster-breath while they all made a break for it. He stumbled into the narrow passage and retreated from the entrance, looking around for some good-sized rocks to toss around.

He was probably going to go to hell for thinking this, but he really hoped that their slithery opponent would go after someone who was actually able to outrun it, say, a Slayer.

While his back was turned to the entrance, something heavy landed into his backside. Without thinking he twisted around, dropped into a crouch, and shot out a kick in a move Catherine taught him.

"Shit!" was followed very quickly by a metallic clanking sound.

As Xander spun back into a standing position, he saw the following:

1. Robin was on the ground clutching his knee and;

2. Robin was unarmed.

"What the hell are you doing here!" Xander shouted. "You're supposed to get your own damn tunnel!"

"I didn't know you were in here!" Robin shouted back. "Ow! Knee! Why…"

"I didn't know it was you," Xander helped Robin to his feet. "I thought you were the snake."

"And, what, kicking it in the nose is going to kill it?" Robin asked as he flexed his right knee.

"Worth a shot if you think you're going to be eaten," Xander pointed out. "I, uh, can you still run if you have to?"

"Hurts like a son of a bitch, but the adrenalin tells me I'll pay later instead of now," Robin gingerly put his weight on his right leg. "Nice shot, by the way."

"Yeah, well, while you're complimenting me, you're unarmed. We're **both **unarmed."

Robin glanced around, his light flashing among the rocks. "Well, **that **sucks. Can you see anything silver-ish?"

ROAAAAR?  
(Hey? Where'd everyone go?)

Xander could dimly hear the distant, echo-y voices of the girls yelling and shouting to get the snake's attention.

HIISSSSS! RAWL!  
(You know? I'm not happy about this. I'm hungry damn it!)

Xander and Robin exchanged glances as they saw the coils dance in front of the entrance to their passage.

"I was just thinking…" Xander began.

"That we're both really stupid for not each grabbing a Slayer to partner with us instead of ending up with each other while that thing decides if it wants white or dark meat?" Robin whispered back.

"Ooooh, you very much read my mind," Xander nodded. "Especially since if it comes after us, it'll get both white **and **dark meat."

"You just **had **to bring up that together we're a veritable feast for the monster pallet, didn't you?"

"Yeah, well, count on me to always find that lower place."

RRRRROOOOOAAAARRRR!  
(Come back here and fight you chickens! I'll take you all on!)

"That thing sounds angry," Robin observed.

"You think?"

GRRROWL!  
(I'm waiting!)

"What do you want to bet that thing's coming down **this **passage?" Xander asked.

"Not a bet. Because we're both stupid and deserve to get eaten."

"Speak for yourself paleface."

Robin blinked at him. "I'm pretty sure that's the first time someone's called me that."

"Would you prefer I call you MC Woodster?"

"You've never heard my 'Do the ABC' rap that I used back in my student-teaching days," Robin said. "All the first graders dug it."

Xander paused a moment, studying Robin's face. "You know what? I believe you."

SNUFFFLE. GRR. GRR. GRR. GRR.  
(Fine. Be like that. Eeeny-meeny-miny-mo.)

"If I didn't know any better…" Robin began.

"…you'd say it was doing an eeny-meeny-miny-mo dealie?" Xander asked. "Think we can hope for rock-paper-scissors?"

"Think it'll change the outcome?" Robin asked as he slowly began backing away.

"Probably not. But we can hope, right?" Xander asked as he kept pace with Robin's quiet back-away-slowly plan.

HIIIISSSSSSS!  
(That one!)

Upon seeing the snake thrust its very, very huge head into the entrance of their passage, Robin and Xander did what any sane, manly men with very strong survival instincts would do.

They turned tail and ran while letting out a very girly scream.

"FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Rest assured it was a girly scream, even if the language wasn't what anyone would call lady-like.

ROWWWWLLLLLLL!  
(Oh goody! White **and **dark meat!)

"Move! Move! Move!" Xander yelled as he grabbed a falling behind Robin and yanked him forward.

"**You **move!" Robin yelled back while he grabbed Xander, who was now behind him, and yanked **him **forward.

Adrenalin must've been working overtime to improve Xander's eyesight in his one eye, since he was able scramble over and around the scattered obstacles without breaking his neck.

Then again, fear of a very painful death has a way of spurring men on to feats of superhuman greatness.

They both stumbled over random rocks that seemed placed just right to make running all but impossible. It didn't help that they were busy "helping" each other over the rough spots, although this helping seemed to mostly involve yanking and dragging the other guy over some pretty sharp surfaces.

It was a race to see what would kill them first: one angry, hungry, giant snake or blood loss because they were bleeding from multiple cuts and scrapes.

HISSSSSSSSSSS!  
(Crap! I'm stuck!)

As neither Robin or Xander spoke Parseltongue, er, Giant Snake, they were unaware that they were saved by the narrowing passage until Robin's taller body smacked its head on a low-hanging rock.

Xander, suddenly realizing that his comrade-in-terror had dropped like a sack of potatoes somewhere behind him, stopped and turned around. Good thing too, as he was less than three inches away from joining Robin in knocked out land.

"Robin," Xander desperately hissed as he ran to his fallen comrade's side.

HISS-RUR-HISSSSSSSSSSSS!  
(Goddamn it! What? Ow! Ow! I knew I picked the wrong meal! Should've gone with the faster food.)

Xander desperately tugged Robin into a sitting position as the principal's head lolled. He noticed the headlamp was well and truly cracked and that a trickle of blood was seeping from underneath the headband.

"Shit. Notnownotnownotnownotnow…" Xander prayed as he removed Robin's now-useless light source. As he steadied himself to try throwing the taller man over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, he registered that the snake hadn't caught them yet.

GROWL!  
(I can't believe this!)

While there was definitely sounds of one nutso, angry, possibly famished snake nearby, there was nothing sounding like slithering to go with it.

"Hunh," Xander said as the thought occurred to him. Knowing that what he was about to do probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, he carefully laid Robin back down and picked his way back down the tunnel.

His light flashed ahead, picking up the iridescent scales. Xander froze and let the light traverse to the snake's head. Upon seeing its failed dinner plans so tantalizingly close, the snake opened and snapped shut its mouth in a thoroughly unfriendly manner.

But, and this was a big but, it didn't move forward, even though Xander could see the snake was doing its best by the way the muscles undulated underneath the skin.

"Heh." The sound escaped. Xander slapped a hand over his mouth, not quite able to stifle the very unmanly giggly laughter fighting to break free.

RUUUURRR!  
(Come closer pal and see how funny it is!)

Xander stood up. "What's big, ugly, has the brain of a walnut, and couldn't outwit gym teacher?"

The snake glared back. If Xander didn't know any better, he'd think the snake could understand him.

Not that it was at all possible, of course.

"Why," he said in an airy voice. "that would be you!" For good measure, he stuck his tongue out and did the hootchie dance that made him world famous in Kindergarten and made Willow laugh until milk blew out her nose.

GRRRRRR!  
(We'll see who's the walnut brain around here. Just you wait…)

Xander deliberately turned his back on snake breath, tossing over his shoulder, "Man! It's been so long since I got in some quality taunting. I sooooo needed that. Thanks for the funny. Worth every penny. Let's not do this again real soon."

GRUMP!  
(When I get out of here, you're first!)

"Yeah, yeah," Xander muttered as he crouched beside Robin. He gently lifted an eyelid to see what kind of concussion Robin had. The bright light shining in his eye seemed to bring Robin violently around and the former principal gagged slightly as if he were going to be sick.

"Ayup, a beaut you've got there," Xander grumbled. "Lucky me. I get to drag your ass all over the place."

Robin moaned.

"C'mon," Xander unhappily growled as he wrestled Robin into an unsteady standing position and pulled the other man's arm around his shoulders. "Let's take it one step at a time, 'kay?"

Robin wobbily nodded. "Where?"

"You. In a cavern. With a big rock," Xander stumbled a little under the other man's weight.

"Whaaaa?"

"You knocked yourself out, dummy," Xander began moving forward. He very quickly got the idea that this task was going to be a little bigger than he originally expected. Once again the one-eye having was causing problems with his balance, a balance that was made all the more precarious by Wood heavily hanging off his blind side.

"Couldda happen' to 'one," Robin protested.

"Maaaan, you've **got **to loose some weight," Xander muttered.

"S'all muscle."

"You mean Andrew's cooking. His mac 'n cheese recipe is a cardiologist's vacation home on a plate."

"That's to show how much he wuuuuuvs you."

"No. He wuvs Enrique Iglesias. I know because he talks in his sleep."

"He wuvs you **and **Enrique. On a half-shell. Wearing togas." Robin started giggling at the imagery in his head involving peeled grapes, lyres, and a disturbing number of strategically placed laurel leaves.

"Ugh, just when I think you can't get any weirder, you top my expectations."

"Nice Xander. Pretty Xander. Almost as pretty as me."

"Now I know you're delirious. I'm waaaaay prettier than you."

"In your dreams pal."

"Hey! Who's carrying who here?"

"Dragging."

"What?"

"Not carrying. Dragging."

"For someone with a bleeding head wound, you're pretty lucid about complaining."

"Fine." Robin pulled away and stood on his feet. He woozed back and forth until nearly toppling over. As Xander caught him before he hit the ground he said, "You know? I could've sworn there was only one floor a few minutes ago."

"And that boys and girls is a sign of a Class A concussion," Xander remarked as he hefted Robin to get a better grip on the man. "I should know. I'm the **king **of concussions. No. Wait. Only the prince. Giles has had more, but only because he's older."

"Headache," Robin gritted between his teeth as Xander started half-carrying, half-dragging him forward.

HISSSSSS! SNARL!  
(Get back here! You think you're escaping? Just you wait!)

"Oh shut uuuup," Xander muttered.

"Shhhh! Snake might hear you over the bells in my head."

"Please. Giganto monster it may be, but it's still a snake. My witty insults and razor sharp tongue are beyond the understanding of its smash-kill-eat walnut-sized brain."

GRRRUMMMMMP!  
(I heard that! I'll show you who's the walnut brain around here!)

Xander looked nervously over his shoulder. "Hey, teach, can snakes crawl backwards?"

"No."

"You sure?"

Robin moaned a bit as his dizzy, hurting brain tried to come up with a reassurance that would make sense. He settled for simple. "Yes."

"Even giant demonic snakes?"

"Xander?"

"What?"

"Yer an ass. But yer a **good **egg. Yer a good egg ass."

"Aaaaalighty then. I'll take it as a compliment given in the heat of the giddy moment where you realize that we've been saved by idiot luck."

"Or is that the ass of a good egg?"

"See? Now you're pushing it."

TBC…


	54. Breakthroughs

****

Part 54: Breakthroughs

Buffy heard a wail above the din of the fight. She spun around, ducking and weaving, trying to get a fix on the source. Lo and behold, she spotted that Andrea was down and clutching her wrist in a way that indicated major hurt.

I gotta get to her before these guys do, she thought as slid in and around her swinging opponents.

She could hear the girls yelling, and hollering, and hitting the enemy with everything they had. Swords had been tossed aside when it became clear that weapons didn't make a dent. Right now the fight was little more than a brawl as the Slayers fought to keep the dirt creatures busy and away from the crypt and the dirt creatures were doing their best to knock the girls out of commission.

Talk about your mousetrap. I can't even **begin **to find a way out of this, Buffy thought as she broke through to Andrea. She scooped the other Slayer up and scanned the fight for an opening that would let her get Andrea in the clear.

Then it hit her.

Son of a…

She was standing in an island of calm. No one and nothing was approaching her. There wasn't even any fightingin the immediate area.

Wait, wait. They knock down someone who's been hitting at them all night and when she's helpless, they don't finish her off? They just leave her there?

Then again, whenever any of them got knocked out of the fray the dirty uglies weren't exactly lumbering over for a coup de grace even when the coup was for the having.

That makes utterly and completely no sense.

Unless…

"Andrea?"

"Yeah?" the girl sniffled.

"I'm going to put you down. Don't. Move."

"What?"

"I'm putting you down on the ground. Right here. Don't move. Pretend you're knocked out."

"You're **leaving **me here?" Andrea twisted herself out of Buffy's arms, landing on the ground with a thump.

"No…no…I just want to…I think this isn't as bad as…"

"I heard about Sunnydale," Andrea accused as she got to her feet. "You let other girls **die **and you buried them in your backyard. You're **not **doing that to…"

Buffy reached out and yanked the girl to her. "**Listen **to me…nothing's going to happen to you. I won't let it happen."

A fist slammed down on her shoulder, sending her reeling to the ground. She saw one of the dirt guys scoop the struggling Andrea up and head into the darkness.

"NO!" Buffy shouted as she hopped to her feet. She took off in pursuit, desperate to get Andrea back. There was an off chance she was wrong and maybe these dirt thingies really were going to go for a kill.

The man made of dirt sped across the ground while Andrea twisted helplessly in its grip. Buffy was so focused on gaining on her quarry, that she didn't sense a second dirt monster was chasing her until it was too late. She felt herself lifted up and tossed over its shoulder.

"Let me down you big moose!" she shouted, pounding uselessly against its back.

Next thing she knew, she was airborne.

"I said let me down! Not throw me! Ooooooof!" Buffy rolled across the hardscrabble ground before coming to a stop on her stomach. She desperately shook her head and scrambled to her feet, half-expecting a finishing blow. So needless to say she was shocked when she realized that she was…

"Alone," she said quietly. She narrowed her eyes and looked around.

Oooo, lookie there. The cemetery fence. Problem was that she was on the wrong side of it if she wanted to charge back into the fight.

"Heh." Buffy slapped a hand over her mouth to prevent the laugh of relief from bubbling up. She was **right**.

"What's so funny," Andrea's voice demanded.

Buffy bounded a little closer to the fence, feeling a whole let better than she had since before the night began. "Where are you?"

"Over here," Andrea limped out of the shadows looking mightily pissed. "Just what did you think…"

Buffy grabbed the younger girl and pulled her into a hug. "I was right. I was right. I was right."

"Ow! Hey! Lemme go!" Andrea protested.

Buffy held the other girl out at arm's length, goofy grin spreading across her face. "Don't you get it? They're not trying to kill us."

"Sez you," Andrea backed away, rubbing her ass. "I'm black-and-blue all over."

"But you're alive," Buffy pointed out as she stepped back and studied the fence. "**We're **alive. They're just guards. More like robot-y guards. It's probably just a really simple spell and…crap…Willow's not here. Betchya they've only got simple instructions, like, no killing people in the cemetery unless they're grail-having."

"So, we're what? Fighting to the pain?" Andrea huffed as she gingerly held her injured wrist.

"Right now, yeah," Buffy said as she paced the fence. _Damn! Spikes at the top. I could probably clear it, but I'm not sure Andrea could._ "We have to get back."

"Whoa! Hold up!" Andrea protested. "I'm not keen on losing body parts."

Buffy let out an irritated breath as she glared at the other Slayer over her shoulder. "Right now, they're just trying to drive us away, probably so they have a clear shot at our friends."

"But you don't know that," Andrea pointed out.

"I don't **want **to test it," Buffy growled. "But it makes a twisted sort of sense because we've got stories— okay, only two examples, but still— where they toss people out but don't kill them, right? But who **knows **what's going to happen if our friends manage to get the grail in their hands. To the pain might turn into to the death and we have to destroy these guys before that happens."

Andrea dug in her heels. "You're guessing."

Buffy gave up, mostly because she was afraid of running out of time. "It's the best I got right now so unless you have a better idea? No? Look, you don't want to fight? Fine. But if you change your mind, I need someone to help me pass the word to the Slayers who **are **fighting. They need to know and we need to find a way to stop them before the grail makes its guest appearance." She turned on her heel and began running for the entrance.

Andrea watched her jog away, sour look on her face. "Forget it. I'm not going."

A twig cracked behind her.

"On second thought…" Andrea began as she chased after Buffy. "Hey! Wait up!"

* * *

Faith bounded over to Catherine feeling like a million bucks. "What's the news?" she demanded. "All I hear is distant growling."

"We think they've drawn the snake off," Catherine said.

Faith looked around. "Where? There's no damn place for it to go." Energy was thrumming through her body and she was getting that tingly-fight-and-fight-some-more feeling in her spine. She was so pumped and needed a good scrap to blow off the energy.

"I heard some snatches of shouting," Ruda volunteered, her eyes grimly fixed on the opening. "I think they're trying to trap it in the tunnels and then finish it off."

"Smart, that's smart," Faith nodded as she bounced on the balls of her feet. For the sheer hell of it, she took out one of her throwing knives and began flipping it between her two hands like a juggler.

Catherine's hand shot out and snatched the knife from her.

"Hey!" Faith protested.

"I take it you're feeling much better," Catherine dryly said.

"Yeah. Yeah. I feel great. Better than great. Never had the healing kick in so fast." She was about ready to climb the walls. If she didn't get any action soon, she was going to pop. "Hey! Think they need help killing something?"

"Unh-ooohhh," Ruda said as she stepped back. "Charlie O.D'd her."

"Hunh?" Faith leaned against the wall, foot digging into the dirt. Standing in one place was such a bitch.

"Faith?" Catherine reached out a hand and began gently rubbing her shoulder. "You're going to be…ummmmm…ookee?"

"What's an ookie? Is that like a noogie?" Faith started giggling. Christ. She was **giggling**. Something was seriously whacked.

"See, when you got knocked out Charlie had to kick-start your Slayer healing because we needed you awake." Catherine sounded desperate. "He might've misjudged a little because we had no idea how bad you were injured and…"

"Wow. So this is the shit he pumped Xan-the-Man full of for the superfastest healing you will ever see this side of Wolverine?" Faith asked. She picked at her clothes feeling itchy all over. "Damn it. I can't stand still!"

"Faith, it'll be alright," Catherine soothed. "Take a deep breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth. Just concentrate on keeping your body calm."

"Is it gonna work?" Faith asked suspiciously. "Because I'm pretty sure when you shoot someone up with speed, breathing deep and keeping calm does not make the head rush go away."

"Hold still," Catherine kept her voice gentle as she studied Faith's eyes. "I need to get a better look…"

The Slayer winced against the bright light shining in her face, but she heard Catherine let out a sigh of relief.

"Your pupils are dilated only a little. Charlie misjudged only by a bit, so you were pretty seriously hurt. Give it about five minutes and your body will be a little calmer. Just let that Slayer metabolism cycle through it." Catherine was definitely putting on the Watcher voice. "Just concentrate and tell your body to behave until you feel better."

"No way it's that easy," Faith insisted.

"It's not. It's that hard," Catherine gently said.

Faith tightly shut her eyes closed and pulled on her prison experience of forcing herself to stay calm no matter how much shit was going on around her. While the prison therapy and anger management sessions could be too full of the self-esteem horseshit at times, she did manage to absorb lessons in exerting some self-control.

Strangely enough, Catherine's suggestion worked. Not completely. She still felt the jumpiness in her muscles, but she found that if she worked at it she could concentrate. Jesus, if she lost it because of some drug-induced boost she'd be a fucking disaster waiting to happen.

That meant trouble for everyone.

Keep it tight, girlfriend, Faith ordered herself as she fought to keep from fidgeting.

"We got it!" J'Nal shouted.

"Don't touch!" Catherine ordered J'Nal. "Wait 'til we're over there."

"Ruda, stay put," Faith said, forcing her jaws to relax.

Catherine began, "I think you should stay…"

"No chance, girlfriend. Rather be with numbers if I go kablooey, if you get my drift. Me 'n Ruda alone? One of us is gonna get hurt if I go psycho."

"It's a good idea," Ruda agreed with a shiver. "You remember what happened with Chalia when she got overdosed by accident."

"But that was an extreme case," Catherine reminded her.

"And Faith's isn't." A stubborn expression crossed Ruda's face. "Besides, it's her friends fighting out there, so she's entitled."

Catherine shook her head with a resigned sigh. "Since Ruda has decided on fair play, let's go."

Faith fought the urge to bound ahead of Catherine as they turned and headed for J'Nal. She could feel her muscles twitching underneath her skin and the rush of blood in her veins as she fought to keep her movements loose and normal. _This is minor? That's disturbing. Don't wanna see what would happen if Chucky-boy decided to really boost me into the stratosphere._

She wondered how long it would take before she felt something resembling normal, because the last thing she needed was the ever-present threat of going ape at the wrong time to be dogging her.

J'Nal's eyes were fixed on the Grail as Faith and Catherine drew level with him. Willow appeared, practically hanging over Faith's shoulder to get a better look.

"OoOoOoOo! Pretty!" Willow said in a squeaky, excited voice.

Faith tilted her head and added, "Shiny, don't forget shiny."

"Very gold," Willow agreed.

"Aside from gold and shiny, why exactly are we thinking 'pretty?'" Faith asked, forcing herself to concentrate on the Grail. "Ain't nothing on it. No jewels. No nothin'. When I think Grail, I think jewels need to be involved."

"It's power that makes it pretty," Willow said.

"And there's a lot of it coming off the Grail in waves," J'Nal added.

"Yo! Squirt! Andrew! Have you found **anything **on the Grail over there?" Faith called.

"Not yet!" Dawn shouted back. "Only thing we have is that 'the gods' put it here, but nothing about the Grail itself, and definitely nothing resembling a user manual."

"I can't believe this," Andrew complained. "Xander sends us off on a D&D mission and we don't even have a Players' Handbook."

"Unh, yeah. Whatever." Faith's brain was too busy chasing itself in circles to even try figuring out what Andrew said. "Keep reading. Something's gotta come up somewhere in that mess."

"Right-o," Dawn agreed before she went back to her mumbled consultation with Andrew.

Catherine stood on her tiptoes, frowning into the cup portion. "There's writing etched in the bottom." She then rendered her judgment in an exclamation that made Faith and Willow jump. "_F-tpah!_"

"That sounds like 'fuck' if I ever heard it," Faith commented.

"What is it?" J'Nal asked.

"Not Lingua Commonality," Catherine unhappily said. "Looks more like Prima. **Ancient **Prima."

J'Nal's dark face scrunched in disapproval. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"It's a guess," Catherine quickly said. "A **big **guess. Because I don't know what the Prima language looks like. At all. Nope. Not me. Because me knowing? Not a good thing. I get that. Yup. Ignorant about all things written in Prima. No knowledge of written Prima here. Nosiree."

Willow and Faith regarded Catherine as she gave a sickly, hopeful smile at the increasingly displeased J'Nal.

"I'm going to pretend you don't officially know what you so obviously know because your family has contributed its share of Prima over the centuries," J'Nal finally said, warning in his voice. "And **not **because you almost mixed blood with one of us."

"Right in one," Catherine nodded sincerely as J'Nal turned away and continued frowning at the Grail.

"Smooooooth," Faith said with rolled eyes. "Very convincing. I truly believe you were telling the truth. No jury would convict you."

"Looks like the Harris babble gene has survived breeding with the saner members of the human race," Willow commented. "Nice to know that some dominant traits just don't go away. Thank you Biology 101 for teaching me about dominant traits. Thank god that was one class that **wasn't **taught by an evil professor, which is really good, because I just scared myself with an image of animating dead frogs ala Frankenstein and then cutting them up while they let out these zombie croaks."

Faith couldn't resist taking her shot. "Y'know, maybe not so much Xander. Could be the babbling comes from the mother's side of the family."

Catherine shot Faith a pointed look.

"I don't know any girl in the house who babbles like Xander when he gets going," Willow replied.

Whoosh! Right over her fucking head, Faith shook her head with a sigh. She clenched her hands behind her back, rhythmically squeezing and relaxing her entwined fingers. She could feel the jumpiness recede, but it was still there under the surface, like a subwoofer hum that just wouldn't go away.

"Much fun as this verbal spell of delusion is, someone still needs to take hold of the Grail," J'Nal said.

"Count me out. With my fucking luck the Grail probably has it in for Slayers," Faith grumbled. "And since I'm pretty sure I can't handle more TLC from your doc..."

"Hey!" Charlie protested from the sidelines where he waited with Tikri.

"A good idea," Catherine agreed. "Well, it's you or me, J'Nal."

J'Nal's hand flicked out and snatched the Grail from its position before anyone could react. When she saw the Grail snuggled tight in J'Nal's arms, Faith tensed, half expecting some _Indiana Jones_ trap to let loose on the group's collective heads.

Catherine exploded. "What the **hada** did you think you were doing?"

"Solving our problem?" J'Nal's uncertain voice telegraphed that he knew that he'd earned Catherine's righteous smackdown.

"Do you have any **idea **what could have happened?" Catherine ranted. "How could you be so careless?"

"Ahhh, but nothing is happening, is it?" J'Nal pointed out.

Catherine huffed. "Lucky," she muttered.

Watcher Honoria mildly placated, J'Nal looked into the cup portion. "Very ancient Prima," he remarked. "Very difficult to translate. It's going to take a little bit."

"We don't have a 'little bit,'" Faith snapped. "I don't know if you noticed, but we got people scattered all over the place fighting god-knows-what so we can grab this thing. I saw we bust a move and haul ass before something **does** happen. Let's figure it out after we get back to the Mother Ship. Giles will be all over it like demon goo on your short hairs."

"Faith," Willow quietly interrupted. "There's a lot of power emanating from that Grail. It's a good idea to check it out." She paused and added with a grin, " 'Demon goo on your short hairs?' Heh. And ew! Not to mention, ouch."

"Very funny," Faith fidgeted.

"Perhaps we should wait until Dawn and Andrew are finished translating the wall?" Catherine prompted.

"I think we better get comfortable then," Faith countered. "Maybe the Grail can clue us in?"

"This iteration of Prima is not easy to interpret," J'Nal absently commented as he stared into the Grail. "Words can mean several things all at once. It's in how they're arranged and the flourishes on the individual letters that tells you the true meaning."

"Nice language," Faith grumbled.

"I'm trying to get a read off the Grail's power," J'Nal continued as if Faith hadn't spoke. "It's a shortcut, but one that is necessary since time is of the essence given the battles around us."

"Maybe I could help?" Willow offered almost shyly.

J'Nal's head shot up and Faith could swear she could see a twitch of a smile. "I'd be honored. Since it has been here for quite some time, perhaps you might be able to read the power signature better than I."

Willow stepped forward and gave the Grail a long, considering look before rendering her judgment. "Power I get, but nothing else. Kinda like the reading I get from this whole place. Can't tell if it's going to cause a problem or not."

J'Nal held the Grail out to Willow so she could take it.

Willow smiled and reached out to take the Grail from J'Nal.

In the space of that second, Faith's paranoid, pessimistic instincts kicked her in the gut. "No!" she shouted.

But she moved a fraction of a second to late to slap Willow's hand away.

Willow's fingertips barely brushed the surface of the Grail when she violently flung herself backwards. Correction: it was more like something had roughly jerked her back a few feet until she landed crumpled on the ground.

"Don't move," Faith ordered as she bounded over to the fallen witch.

A low keening sound came from the Willow-shaped mound.

"Willow?" Faith asked as she reached out a trembling hand.

Yet another brush of fingertips as Faith barely touched Willow's shoulder was enough to animate the witch. She scrambled back, her eyes a solid, cold black that froze Faith in place.

That look…Faith felt the remains of the drug high dissipate as her jumpy thoughts found something to focus on and her Slayer instincts started screaming that bad shit was going down.

As for Willow, she seemed utterly unaware of her surroundings as she stared down at her hands, rocking back and forth. "My hands. Oh my god. My hands. The blood…" her voice trailed off into a broken sob.

Faith didn't see Catherine and her people exchange quick looks behind her back as she forced herself to cautiously approach Willow.

Willow reached out and grabbed Faith by the front of her shirt and pulled her forward in a surprisingly strong grip, those coal black eyes not leaving the Slayer's face. "It's all over me, Faith. Look," she held up a perfectly clean hand for the Slayer's inspection, tears rolling down her face, "his blood's **all over **me. It's been on my hands all day. There was so much blood. The spell didn't say…"

Faith could hear someone creeping up behind her. "I said **stay put**," she snapped. The sound of movement stopped.

"He was right about me," Willow whispered, shell-shocked black eyes locked on Faith's face. "Monster. Vampire. Selfish bitch. But the **poison**. I had to…selfish…I'm selfish…he'll understand…you understand. Please tell me you understand. Please tell me he'll forgive me."

What the hell is going on? "Fuck. She's lost it. We have to get her out of here."

"It's the Grail." J'Nal sounded shaky. "I felt the surge of power when she touched it. The mystical signature clashed with the her native connection to this planet and must've affected her thought processes."

"Are you telling me the Grail short-circuited her brain?" Faith asked over her shoulder as Willow's tears snapped off. The witch was now humming something vaguely pop-y and folk-y, a tune Faith didn't recognize.

"I don't know," J'Nal admitted.

Willow giggled. "I love this song. I **really **love this song. No surprise it's number one." She was off humming again.

"Find the fuck out," Faith snarled. "Dawn? Andrew?"

"Yeah?" Dawn asked.

"You done reading that thing yet?"

"Make that a no," Dawn said. "The mix of ogham and what was that language again?"

"S'nargle," Andrew answered.

"Yeah, so it's making the translating tough going," Dawn said.

"Do you really need to finish it?" Faith asked hoping the answer would be no.

"No!" Andrew cheerfully volunteered.

"Yes," Dawn countered with a glare at her cavern buddy. "So far, nothing useful. Mostly 'and the gods did this' and the 'gods thus came forth,' the usual stuff, but I want to finish the translation to make sure we're not missing something."

"Spoilsport," Andrew pouted.

"I hate it when demons pop," Willow started scrubbing her hands through her hair, black eyes still in that thousand-mile stare. "When I said I missed demons that go 'poof,' I meant demons that go 'poof,' not 'pop.' I mean it's like glue-y glue. I swear I'm going to have to shave my head. That's not funny Joey! I noticed **you **were in the clear when Rona ran it through with a sword. Honestly, when I was your age I was more respect-y to people with more demon-y experience. Giles! I was so! "

Keeeee-rist! "Whatever the fuck is affecting Willow, you better figure it out," Faith snarled. "I don't want **anyone else **whammied by that thing, got it? So before it leaves here, find a way to stop its bizarre-o rays before it does whatever it does to someone else."

"I think we need to get her out of here," Catherine said nervously. "Get some distance between her and the Grail. Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Check her out," Catherine ordered.

Faith moved aside to let Charlie in with his metal remote full of blinking lights. She quickly scanned the cavern to find 'volunteers' to evacuate Willow. Dawn and Andrew were out, since they were still bickering over the writing on the wall. Catherine and friends were out since they had to figure out how to smother whatever the Grail was sending out. That left just her to get Willow out of here.

Oooh, not entirely comfortable with **that **thought.

"I found a book," Willow laughed as she held her empty hand out to Faith. "I can't **believe it**. This is the key. Do you know what this means?"

"There's a problem," Charlie muttered.

"You think?" Faith nastily countered.

"Her neuropathic signals keep overwriting themselves, which is activating the psycenter region in the center of her cerebral cortex. It appears be over stimulating the tempus node and causing it to misfire, which means that we don't just have a physiological problem, but a mystical one as well."

"Too many syllables," Faith growled. "Try again."

"If you go on the theory that all time happens at the same time…"

"Doc?" Faith interrupted. "Just tell me one thing: Can we fix her?"

"Not here," Charlie quickly answered; relieved he was spared trying to explain something that was clearly beyond Faith's grasp. "We need to get her someplace quiet so J'Nal and I can do a tandem healing. We have to tackle not just the physical, but the mystical as well and that's tricky."

"This is quiet. Sort of."

"Not quiet enough," J'Nal volunteered. "We need to isolate her as well because if something goes wrong, we might inadvertently cause harm not just to her but to anyone in the vicinity."

Fuck. This sounded uber-bad.

It didn't help that every option she had was not a good option. _Right, so what option is the least fucked-up?_

"Ruda!" Faith snapped.

The younger Slayer jogged over, her expression all attention. Faith suspected that she was barely suppressing the urge to bow, salute, or genuflect.

"I gotta get the Red One outta here, so I need you to do me a favor."

"Whatever you need," Ruda said.

Faith ignored the unspoken Lanoire-rah-sen she just knew was lurking at the end of the sentence. She jerked her head over at Dawn and Andrew, "Keep an eye on those two and make sure they get outta here in one piece."

"Of course I will." Ruda looked offended that Faith even thought she had to ask.

"I know you will, but, see, the thing is, I promised Xander special that I'd keep them and Willow safe." Faith noticed that the girl stood straighter at that, so she went with it. "But I gotta get Willow out 'cause right now she ain't safe. Since I can't be in two places at once…"

"They'll be fine," Ruda grinned. "I'll make sure. I promise you and Alexander special."

Faith couldn't resist grinning back. Whatever else Ruda was, she was most definitely a good kid. _Wonder how much Catherine is the reason for that._ She forced herself to her feet, feeling a certain weight on her shoulders. She had made her decision; she just hoped it was the right one. "Catherine, I'm gonna get Willow outta here."

"We'll work on the Grail. Make sure it won't cause harm when it leaves this place," Catherine agreed.

"You also might want to keep her away from the others," Charlie added. He gave Catherine a look as he added, "Her mind might be unhinged from this time period, which means she could be seeing the future."

Faith's heart sank. If Willow was seeing the future, just how much was she seeing?

This could only end one of two ways: bad or worse.

"Good luck," Charlie muttered.

Faith looked over at Willow, who was now sitting cross-legged and humming some sort of mantra as she stared into space with those black eyes. _I'm sure as hell gonna need it,_ she silently agreed.

* * *

As he dragged Robin back into the cavern they had fled earlier, Xander could feel exhaustion— caused by the strain of keeping his one eye focused on finding the least rocky path to more stable ground, dragging the taller man over said rocky path, and the loss of the adrenalin boost he had when a snake was hot on his heels— settle over him like a thick blanket.

He could still hear the snake hissing and growling in its trap, as well as the sound of scattering rocks, probably caused by its tail lashing around. The acoustics gave the illusion that the snake was surrounding them and that any second coils would drop from the ceiling, entrapping both he and Robin.

"Xander!" Vi shouted as she sped across the cavern.

"Help me with Robin," Xander said.

Vi got on the other side of the injured man, lightening the load on Xander's shoulder. "What happened?" she asked with wide, worried eyes. "When we saw you two were missing…"

"The snake's trapped right now. Got stuck when the tunnel narrowed, so it's ready for a good Slaying. But first we gotta get Robin comfy."

"M'fine," Robin protested weakly as his head lolled. "Tired, tho'."

"Don't close your eyes. Don't even **think **of closing your eyes," Xander desperately ordered. "You've got a concussion and you have to stay awake until we get someone to look at you."

"How did Robin get hurt?" Lisa asked as they approached.

"The narrow tunnel that captured our snake cracked his head," Xander answered shortly. "His concussion is pretty bad."

The other three Slayers joined Vi and took Robin off his hands, leaning the former principal against the cavern wall.

Robin thanked them by throwing up with a sickening groan.

"Eeeeeew!" Barbara protested as she backed away in a dance step.

"Get used to it," Xander grimly said as he jumped forward to grab Robin as the other man began sinking to the ground. "Us non-Slayer types don't have your healing, so stuff like this happens. That's why I'm trying to stick with distance weapons. Less chance of sleeping through a fight that way."

"Is he going to be all right?" Sally asked.

Xander helped Robin settle to the ground and checked the other man's pupils. Robin mumbled a protest and began to shiver.

"Probably, but it's a pretty bad concussion," Xander said. "We have to keep him awake, no matter what." He looked around at the girls. "Sadly, we don't have anything on us to keep him warm, so that's about all we can do until we get him out of here."

"What are we going to do?" Vi asked. Over her shoulder, Barbara, Sally, and Lisa peered at him with wide eyes.

That's when it him: they were looking to **him **to come up with a plan. Great. Just great. He had to worry about Buffy, Giles, and the other Slayers fighting above ground; Faith, Willow, Dawn, and Catherine's team in the grail cavern; an injured Robin that had to get evacuated pronto; and one trapped, pissed snake.

Right. One step at a time.

"First off, someone get me my crossbow," Xander said.

Barbara dutifully jogged off to retrieve it.

"Next up, we gotta kill that snake," Xander said as Barbara returned with his crossbow and handed it to him.

"But Robin…" Sally protested.

"The snake is the bigger problem. Robin says it shouldn't be able to escape, but my gut tells me we should make sure," Xander interrupted. "I don't want to assume anything only to wind up snake kibble."

Robin moaned and shivered.

"Stay awake!" Xander snapped at Robin.

"Tryin'," Robin mumbled. "Cold."

Xander worriedly chewed his lip. "I need one of you to stay with him to make sure he stays awake. Vi? How about you?"

"Why me?" Vi squeaked.

"Because I also don't want to assume that rat-breath is our only trap," Xander said. He hastened to add when he saw open her mouth to protest again, "And don't tell me that I should trust that damn journal because I don't. Something's gone seriously wrong somewhere because nowhere did I say anyone would get this seriously hurt. So let's assume we're flying without a map."

"Okay," Vi said, not entirely mollified.

Xander reached out and grabbed her hand. "Vi? Of the four of you Slayers, you're the one with the most training. So I trust you to keep your head and your eyes peeled for trouble. Someone needs to stay with Robin and, if necessary, protect him. Okay?"

Vi let a nervous smile escape as she nodded, squaring her shoulders as she did so.

"Once we kill that snake, one of you is getting Robin out of here. The rest of us will stick around just in case there's a back-up booby trap," Xander looked at each of the girls in turn, trying not to think how young and how **eager** they all looked. "Sally, Barbara, Lisa? The four of us are going to make us some snakeskin boots."

The four Slayers crowded closer to get the details of the cavern layout and plot out a strategy for a righteous Slay.

TBC…


	55. Windows Future and Past

****

Part 55: Windows Future and Past

Buffy stumbled backwards, more from exhaustion than any landed blow, and nearly tripped over a water spigot.

How many hours have they been fighting? Truthfully, it felt less like hours and more like days.

A dirt creature charged her and she managed to reach out and use its own momentum against it, sending it spinning away to the periphery of the brawl.

They were losing. The dirt monsters were managing to edge ever closer to the crypt despite everyone's best efforts.

Once upon a time, Buffy knew she would've blamed the loss of ground on the fact that the Slayers knew they were no longer fighting for their lives and would've been mentally, if not verbally, accusing them of holding back because of it.

But the muscle ache, painful bruises, and the desperate need to stop just for one second was a truth she couldn't escape. They were losing ground simply because everyone was stretched to the physical breaking point. Slayers were starting to be kidnapped and thrown over the fence. To give the other girls a lot of credit, they would invariably return, limping back into the fray to continue fighting.

Even Andrea was back in the thick of things, although Buffy suspected it was more of a case of peer pressure than anything else.

Plus, and this was the hard part to admit, she highly doubted the other girls were fighting just because of her sterling example. More likely they kept battling because, like her, they were afraid of what would happen if their friends walked into the middle of this mess with grail in hand.

She wearily ducked as a dirt monster took a wild swing at her head, nearly tripping as she did so. Her hand caught on the handle of the spigot, causing the water to explosively gush out of the tap.

Dirt monster rumbled away and focused on another nearby Slayer.

Buffy would've given chase, but her mouth was bone dry and she needed drink. She reached over to splash some of the flowing water to her face when she noticed it.

Mud!

Thirst forgotten, her hand splashed into the rapidly expanding puddle. She grabbed a handful of mud and held it up to her disbelieving eyes before closing her hand into a fist.

Mud! Mud! Mud! Mud! I am sooooo mentally challenged!

She glanced around and noticed that all feints in her general direction had ceased.

"YES!" she shouted. It was a beautiful moment, as if the heavens had opened up, put her in the spotlight, and choirs of angels were singing the Halleluiah chorus.

For the sheer hell of it, she ducked under the gushing water, laughing like she really had lost all her marbles. Hair sopping, she charged into a knot of three dirt creatures, and gave her head a good, hard shake.

Watching them practically trip all over themselves to get away from the droplets looked a hell of a lot like victory.

Ohhhhh, but it's not enough. It's not nearly enough, Buffy thought as she scanned the battle. Hope must've been helping her eyesight, because she spotted Kennedy fighting back-to-back with Tammi. _Perfect!_

Buffy whipped off her wet coat, waving it over her head with a very _Xena-_like battle cry, and charged at Kennedy and Tammi. The two Slayers looked up at the sound and the expression on both Kennedy's and Tammi's faces were clear:_ Buffy's gone bonkers._

Buffy skidded to a stop, breathlessly laughing as the dirt monsters backed away from her super-secret, extra-special weapon in the form of a wet head and a wet coat. "Water!" she shouted at the other two Slayers.

"Hunh?" Kennedy asked.

"Water! They're afraid of water!" Buffy shouted, barely able to contain her glee. She cracked it and cracked it but good. These dirt things were going down.

"Ken, she's right," Tammi said with wonder as she scanned the immediate area. "Look!"

"Well I'll be damned," Kennedy agreed as she noticed that the dirt creatures had backed off, giving the three gathered Slayers breathing room.

"You scouted earlier, right?" Buffy asked. Without waiting for an answer, she ploughed ahead, words tumbling quickly from her mouth. "Did you spot someplace where they'd keep tools and stuff? Like hoses?"

"There's a groundskeepers shed." Kennedy's mouth was beginning to stretch into a grin. "I betchya there's hoses there. Maybe some power sprayers to boot."

"Go get 'em," Buffy ordered. "Feel free to engage in destruction of property."

"What about you?" Tammi asked.

"I don't know where it is, so I'll let you get what we need. Grab anything you think will help. Hoses. Buckets. Anything that can throw water at these things," Buffy said as she watched the dirt creatures begin edging back into fighting range. "Me? I'm going to spread the word. Let's herd these yo-yos around the spigots so we'll have 'em in position when you come back."

"Cavalry go!" Tammi whooped as she charged away from the fight at a dead run.

"Kids today," Kennedy grumbled good-naturedly as she followed in Tammi's wake.

Buffy bounced on the balls of her feet; grin splitting her face as she watched them go. Just as one dirt monster got within reach, Buffy turned that evil smile on her opponent.

"Oooooh, you are sooooo toasted," she cheerfully announced.

Then she thwapped it over its thick, rock-like head with her wet coat.

* * *

"Ooooh, such a pretty ass."

"Eeeep!" Faith squeaked as Willow reached down and took two handfuls.

She got a moan and an ass massage in response.

"Look, not so much do I mind you copping a feel, but can you do this shit when we're in private?" Faith asked as she stumbled out of the narrow passage into cavern beyond.

"Aaaaah, yesssss," Willow hissed as wandering fingers went for a back entry.

"That is **it**." Faith said as she got into the cavern where she left Xander, Robin, and the others. She plopped Willow on the ground with a glare. "Ain't like I've had my share of fun time with the ladies back in the day, but these days I prefer the ladies to have dicks if you get my drift."

Willow gave a good writhe and moan in response.

"Great, you're fucking getting laid while I'm trying to save your sorry ass."

"Willow!"

Faith turned around and saw Xander jogging over to her followed by a phalanx of Slayers, their shadowy faces recognizable in the light of their headlamps. She was surprised to see Robin wasn't with them and she scrunched her eyes an effort to notch up the superior Slayer eyesight. All she could see beyond the group coming at her was a mound that probably was Robin on the ground and leaning against the cavern wall. Whatever they were fighting was nowhere to be seen, although she could hear a distant growling and hissing echo that seemed to get closer and retreat.

A million questions she had, but right now she had a situation, so she squelched the urge to charge over to the probably-Robin mound to see if he was okay. "Yo! Keep the kids away from this shit. We got ourselves a huge problem," Faith shouted.

Xander halted and glanced behind him. "You heard her. Vi, go stay with Robin. Rest of you, stay on alert," he ordered. "The snake may be trapped for now, but there might be other surprises and I'm not in the mood to get blindsided. You hear anything, you **yell**, okay?"

While the girls didn't quite salute, they definitely did has he ordered without question. Vi went and stood by Robin while the other three approached the entrances with swords at the ready.

Xander jogged the rest of the way over, his crossbow hanging from his right shoulder but not loaded. He didn't bother to look behind him to see if they did as he said.

"Dayum, way to go masterful there," Faith couldn't resist teasing. "Where's our trap?"

"No worries. Snake breath got itself stuck, so it's under control at the moment." Xander skidded to a stop and kneeled down next to the writhing Willow, placing his crossbow on the ground. "What happened? Is she hurt?" He recoiled and looked at Faith. "Her eyes…what…Faith?"

"Unh, it'sa little complicated," Faith began. "See…"

Willow looked up. "Oooooo, you brought me a pretty boy." She looked over at her invisible partner. "You naughty, naughty girl."

"Willow?" Xander looked down and tenderly touched the witch's face with shaking fingers. "What's going on?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell…" Faith began.

Willow reached out and grabbed a handful of male crotch, resulting in the most surprised expression on Xander's face that Faith had ever seen. _Now **that **is fucking impressive. I thought I'd seen shocked when I screwed his brains out but…_

"Ahhhh, Willow?" Xander choked as Willow began to rub.

"It looks sooooo, delicious. I just want to eat that pretty cock right up," Willow groaned.

"And yeeoooooow!" Xander moved so fast that he was cowering behind Faith before the Slayer even registered that he moved. She was pretty sure that if scientists somewhere on planet earth were conducting experiments measuring the ambient irony in the atmosphere, this one moment probably shattered all the instruments in an impressive explosive display.

"What the hell is she **doing**?" Xander demanded as he peered at Willow over Faith's shoulder.

The sucking sounds coming from the prone witch's general direction weren't so much disgusting as they were hilarious. Or at least Faith thoughtthey would've been hilarious if the setting weren't in the middle of one fucked-up situation.

"At a guess," Faith said, "I'd say she's having a threesome. You go girlfriend!"

"Goddamn it, I'm being serious!"

"So am I."

"Faith!"

"Look, there's been a bit of a screw up…"

"Ya think?"

"Calm your shit down!" Faith turned around to face Xander, who was obviously exerting a hell of a lot of willpower to remain fixed on her face instead of looking over to watch his friend. "Willow touched the Grail and her brain went kablooey. Her eyes went dark and she just started saying shit."

"You mean she's having nonstop sex-a-thons since…"

"No, no," Faith waved her hands. "It's like she's skipping around having these conversations with people I don't know. Xander, Charlie thinks she's seeing the future."

From her location on the ground, Willow growled and whimpered and moaned and babbled words that Faith was shocked Willow even knew existed.

Xander took a step back and his face went white. "If that's true, that's a problem."

"No shit," Faith said. "Dawn and Andrew are still tied up with a translation on the cavern's walls and Catherine's people are trying to figure out what went wrong with the Grail in case Willow triggered something. So that left me to pull a 911 and get her the hell out of there in case proximity was the problem."

"Good thinking," Xander agreed. "Can they do something? For her?"

"They'll be able to heal her, but we've gotta get her someplace quiet so J'Nal and Charlie can do some sort of double-team healing."

"Right, right," Xander nodded. "I'm sure it'll be all…"

Willow let out a squeal and next thing Faith knew Xander had a clinging redhead hanging from his neck.

"Oh, no. Not again," he moaned. "I can't **take…**"

"Xander! You're alive!" She let go and stared up into his face, eyes spilling over with tears. "When we lost track of you in Nunavut, we thought they got you." She reached up and tenderly touched his face. "You grew a beard!"

"None of it?" Xander asked Faith.

Willow swatted him playfully. "Fine. Couldn't shave. On the run for your life. Excuses, excuses. What? You can't call me and ask to send a razor?"

"I can't see me in a beard," Xander remarked.

Willow reached out to Faith and captured the Slayer in a hug. Faith froze and looked at Xander over the witch's head.

"Faith, thank god you're alive, too. I didn't mean to leave you out," Willow said. She lowered her voice, "Thank you for taking care of him. No. No. Catherine and Jason are fine. As far as Catherine knows mommy and daddy were on a secret mission and would be home and Jason's too young to know anything, so they don't know that we thought you guys were…" the sentence ended with a sob.

"Mommy and daddy," Xander deadpanned.

"Aw, shit," Faith agreed. "That answers **that **question."

"You're being calm," Xander remarked.

"Says the guy who isn't doing an impressive display of a screaming mee-mee, so let's can the comments and find a way to duct tape her mouth."

Willow leaned back with a laugh. "You're kidding! You're pregnant **again**? Xander, what is it with you and the danger sex?" Willow whirled away and shouted, "Someone get Catherine!"

Released from Willow's embrace, Xander and Faith backed up until they felt rock behind them. They leaned against the cavern wall side-by-side as Willow began having the kind of conversation with someone named Cat that you'd have if the other person were a five-year-old. If Faith had her beloved Camels, and if Xander actually smoked, one of them would've lit up and passed the butt to their neighbor in that defeated way that only overtired soldiers have.

"You know," Faith finally said as she drew very hard on the imaginary cigarette in her head, "it's not so much the pregnant that bugs the shit out of me. It's the again."

"Scary. You're starting to read my mind."

"Cyclops? Two words: Vas. Ectomy."

"Slaygirl? Four words: You. And. What. Army."

Willow had changed tact and was now dancing some sort of waltz with an invisible partner, laughing in a coy, giggly way that announced she was flirting.

"We've got to get her out of here, not that she knows she's here," Xander said. "If we run into more trouble…"

"She'll be in more trouble than we can deal with, gotchya," Faith agreed. "And we have to keep her the fuck away from everyone else until Charlie and J'Nal can fix her. The shit she's saying and those fucking eyes…"

"Yeah, scare the piss out of me, too," Xander agreed.

In the dim light of his headlamp, Faith could see that Xander was pale and his features drawn with worry, although given everything since she'd helped him down those stairs she wasn't entirely sure if he was worried about something happening to Willow or Willow happening something.

Willow froze and next to her she sensed Xander tense. The witch slowly turned, her face frozen into a furious snarl.

"No," Xander whispered. "No, I can feel it…" And with that mysterious statement he was off and running, not in the opposite direction like any sensible human being, but straight at the redhead.

He made it halfway to her when Willow's hand flew out and pinned him against the cavern wall. His headlamp flew off his head, landing on the ground, light still shining.

"Tell me." Willow's voice was furious, insistent, and murderous.

"Will— " Xander's voice chocked off as Willow's outstretched hand turned into a fist.

"Xander!" Vi screamed.

Faith broke out of her paralysis and charged with some vague hope of distracting the woman.

She didn't get very far before she, too, was pinned against the wall next to Xander.

"Wait…wait…" Faith began.

"Silence!" Willow floated closer, borne by some incomprehensible fury. "Since your mate is being uncooperative, you are going to tell me where they are."

Faith saw Vi sneaking up on Willow from behind and did her best to keep her eyes straight ahead. "Yo! I think you got us confused with someone…"

Willow spun around and knocked Vi backwards with a flick of her wrist, sending the Slayer hurtling into her teammates.

Too soon those cold black eyes were fixed on Faith's face. "Soooooo, thought you'd get one of your mindless minions to blindside me. Not. That. Easy."

She looked over at Xander, wondering why the hell he wasn't saying anything. The clenched jaw and wide staring eyes of someone in a hella lot of pain pretty much told her everything she needed to know. If Xander opened his mouth, it was only going to be to scream.

"Look, just tell me what the fuck you want," Faith said. "I can play games with the best of 'em. Just give me a little clue, y'know, Catholic school uniform, bigger than a breadbox, something so heavy that even God can't lift it. I'm all fucking ears over here."

Willow floated closer stopping just inside the circle of Xander's lost light. "Your minions are frozen in place. Since they're innocents, I'll let them live, but you…" Willow let the unspoken threat hang there.

"I'm not a goddamn mind reader!" Faith exploded in exasperation. It was blindingly obvious that Willow wasn't hearing a damn thing she was saying.

"I can make this quick, or I can make this slow," Willow continued, her voice dropping into the danger zone. "You'll stop your **lying **and you will tell me where they are."

"Who? Just throw me a fucking bone…"

"Liar!" Willow snapped. She brought her hand up and closed it in a fist, causing Xander's mute form to jerk like he was being electrocuted. Faith looked next to her and fought back a gasp.

His jaw was clenched and he wasn't yelling because his mouth was **gone**.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Faith whispered.

"Tell me what I want to know, or I will tear your mate apart in front of your eyes." Willow tilted her head and then burst out in a rough laughter. "Let me get this straight: You **dissected **15 children and are hiding another 20 so you can perform your little ritual and **I'm** inhuman?"

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck," Faith's breath hitched as she struggled to get out of the magical hold. No dice. She could move her head and breathe in shallow gasps, but she couldn't break free. She looked over at the other Slayers but as promised, they were frozen in mid-flight, if she could judge by the way they seemed to float in the light of their headlamps. She wasn't even sure if they were aware of what was happening.

"Thank you," Willow said in a voice dripping with irony.

The sudden release collapsed Faith to the floor and she immediately tried to get to her feet. Nothing doing. Her bones felt rubberized and she could just barely move her head. Xander had likewise collapsed to the ground right in her line of sight, his mouth— _praise Jesus I'll never take the Lord's name in vain again— _was back. There was a blank look in his face that Faith didn't entirely like, mostly because it was the look of someone who was in so much pain that their mind had checked out for the duration.

"Since you were cooperative, I'll make it quick instead of slow," Willow said as she raised her hands.

* * *

"Well?" Catherine pushed.

"I'm translating as fast as I can," J'Nal snapped. "The interruptions aren't helping."

Catherine scanned the cavern, half-afraid that more trouble was lurking in the shadows. This was not going according to plan. Not the plan laid down in the strategy sessions. Not the plan laid down in the house meeting session. Not the plan laid down in Alexander's journal.

What if we really did screw up the timeline? Then all of this is for nothing. The Watcher Honoria shivered at the very idea.

Charlie nervously fidgeted next to her as he fiddled with his medical scanner. "I don't get it," he mumbled. "Nothing's happening to J'Nal. All his brain functions are normal."

"Which seems to support the idea that we're immune, but people from this time period aren't," Catherine said. "Wish that thing could get readings off inanimate mystical objects."

"That's why we got J'Nal," Charlie pointed out.

"Not that J'Nal knows what's going on, either," the witch said as he peered into the cup of the Grail.

"You two!" Catherine shouted at Dawn and Andrew. "How's it going over there?"

"Slowly!" Dawn shouted back. "And before you ask, neither one of us is feeling weird or anything, so whatever affected Willow isn't affecting us."

"Maybe it's not broadcasting," Tikri said as she crowded in close. "Maybe touching it triggers…"

"That much is pretty clear," Charlie interrupted.

"Let's be sure before we jump to conclusions," Catherine said. "The way things are going…"

J'Nal looked up, his mouth twisting comically, as he thumped the Grail down on the raised platform. "I don't believe it," he said.

"Oh crap!" Dawn shouted. "Hey guys? I think we found out what the problem is."

"Let me guess," J'Nal shouted back, "no one from Tara is allowed to touch the Grail?"

"If Tara is this wonderful blue marble that is known as earth? Yeah," Andrew answered as Dawn began to mutter a string of profanities. "We found something that looks like a warning."

"Which I bet is the warning echoed inside the lip of the Grail," J'Nal agreed.

Catherine took a deep breath, held it, counted to 10, and then let it slide out of her nose. "So what you're saying is we could've avoided this mess if we just waited."

"Looks like it," J'Nal said.

Catherine rubbed her temples in irritation. "You know? We're don't usually act like such rank amateurs. That's why we're still alive. Can someone tell me how the **hada** we let this situation get out of control? Especially since we could've avoided this whole thing if we let Dawn, Andrew, and J'Nal finish translating."

"I vote fear," Tikri said. "Fear is a very big motivator behind stupidity. Ask any politico."

"No excuse," Catherine snapped. "We're supposed to be professionals here, people. If I were Alexander and Faith, I'd be pretty futching sure that the all-knowing people of the future were idiots who undergo ritualistic shaving of the intelligence on a daily basis. Do you realize what we've done? We let Willow get **hurt**, maybe even grievously so. If history is at all even close to accurate about the depth of her relationship with Alexander, we've just made ourselves an enemy. And if we've made **him **an enemy, you can bet we're in for a rough ride if it turns out that we can't leave."

"But…" Charlie began.

"Ooooh, don't worry," Catherine snarled, "I've been as bad as the rest of you. But that stops. Right. Now. J'Nal!"

"Yes?" the witch said softly. He knew better than to even try placating her when she was in full temper.

"Tell me what the Grail says. And make sure your translation is accurate," Catherine warned with a glare.

"In essence, the engraving on the Grail says that this object is to be used 'beyond the time that is this time and in a place beyond this world,'" J'Nal quickly answered.

"Which means?" Catherine prompted.

"It's a Prima riddle tradition. In short, it's not meant for anyone here and now," J'Nal explained. "It adds a warning that if anyone here and now 'brushes the golden promise of power, the mind shall outgrow the mortal shell rooted in this time and place.'"

"Sounds like what happened," Catherine nodded. "Dawn! Did you hear him?"

"I caught a word here and there. The acoustics royally suck the big one," Dawn answered, keeping her voice at not-quite-a-yell. "But what I did hear is seems to track with what we just read. Pretty straightforward warning, well, as straightforward as stuff like this gets anyway."

"Let's hear it," Catherine ordered.

"'As the gods have hidden the Grail here for those who are yet-to-be, yea even as they stand in wonder at our works, they shall not have come to pass,' which I guess would totally describe you guys, since, like, you don't actually exist for real since none of you are actually born yet," Dawn said. "It goes on, 'those who are and who walk in this world shall reach out, but they shall be rebuffed'--which is pretty obvious given what happened to Willow--'and they shall find their minds wandering in worlds yet to come,' whatever that means."

"How sure are you about that translation?" Catherine pressed.

"Pretty sure. Not 100 percent, more like 80 percent," Dawn said.

"I'd say 90 percent," Andrew argued.

"We are not rolling a D-4 to see who's right, Andrew," Dawn grumped.

"Well, on the face of it, it looks like the two warnings coincide, so let's assume that no one from this time period can touch the Grail without big trouble paying a visit," Catherine decided. "Now, I want options on how we can keep that thing from posing a potential threat."

"Easy, don't let anyone touch it," Tikri shrugged. "Seems straightforward to me."

"Ahhhh, good intentions. We can play keep away all we'd like, but we still have to get it out of here and that means an increased chance of someone touching it who shouldn't," Catherine said.

"Can we go with better safe than sorry?" Dawn asked as she jogged over to the group with Andrew in tow. "I mean you **are **dealing with the Scooby Gang and a bunch of junior Scoobies-in-training."

"I don't follow," Catherine said.

"That means that if there's a way to make their lives even more difficult, they'll make it happen," Dawn replied. "Trust me. I've seen it more times than I can count."

J'Nal began rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "So what you're saying is that a mystical entropomorphic event surrounds your friends and family…"

"A mystical what-a-what?" Dawn asked.

"It's like a force field," Andrew snorted, "everyone knows that."

…thereby causing all best laid plans to go awry? Interesting," J'Nal continued as if he hadn't heard the exchange.

"I say you use that as your excuse when you file your report," Tikri said. "I know I will when I report this story."

"Works for me!" Charlie announced, uncharacteristically agreeing with the witnesser.

"That. Is. Insane," Catherine gritted. She thought about it. "But just in case, J'Nal, is there a way to somehow block the Grail from harming someone from this time period if they happen to touch it?"

J'Nal thoughtfully studied the Grail a moment before rendering a judgment. "Yes and no. I can't prevent someone from actually touching the Grail and I can't prevent the Grail from engaging its mystical defenses in response."

"That sounded very much like a no," Catherine argued.

"What I can do is put a repel around the Grail," J'Nal said. "In essence, people are going to want to avoid touching it."

"Now that could work," Dawn interrupted. "Willow mentioned to me that she thought there was a Xander-shaped repel spell on this cavern because she and Faith couldn't convince him to even think of walking in here. So if you can lay a general whammy on the Grail, along with lots and lots of verbal warnings, I think you might be able to avoid trouble."

"Maybe," Andrew amended. "Depends on whether or not anyone is immune to Jedi mind tricks."

Catherine shook her head. "You think someone deliberately cast a spell to keep Alexander away from this place?"

"**Willow** thinks that," Dawn corrected. "It's just as likely that Xander thought he should stay with Robin and the other Slayers and Willow jumped to conclusions because as far as she's concerned magic can explain almost anything. It's a little bit of a blind spot with her."

"Either way, for the best probably," Catherine sighed.

"Preach it," Dawn agreed. "If Xander was here when Willow got whammied by the Grail, I guarantee he would've gone totally ape."

"They're that close?" Tikri asked, practically licking her chops.

"Xander would've been upset no matter who got hurt," Andrew puffed out his chest, "because he's just like that. He truly cares what happens to all of us because of his tender, tender heart. Which is still badly shattered because of…"

"Andrew," Dawn interrupted with a painful wince. "Yeah, Xander wouldn't've been happy no matter who got hurt, but Willow is part of a select group."

"Select group?" Catherine felt her heart sink.

"Yeah. People on the list get hurt? Xander pulls out the stops and no one wants to see that happen," Dawn shivered.

Catherine blinked at Dawn a moment before stating, "Just to let you know, if you meant that as comfort? I'm not feeling comfort."

Dawn stifled a grin. "Then I suggest you come up with a plan so you don't find out what a totally ape Xander will do to you if you don't fix Willow."

"Chivalry," Andrew sighed. "Xander's one of the few that truly does believe in the creed of the paladin hero."

"More like if you hurt his friends you're on his shit list for life, but okay, have it your way," Dawn patted Andrew's shoulder.

"And no one holds a grudge like your family," Charlie commented.

"Ohhh, yah. Definitely feeling not too good right now," Catherine admitted. "Well, we have a plan, so, J'nal, get to work on that repel spell."

"Stand back just in case," J'nal warned.

"I plan to stand very back," Charlie said. "Catherine? You really don't need me around for this, so I think I better try and catch up with Faith."

"Why?" Catherine asked.

"Willow is spouting snippets from the future. She's already stumbled across bits that apply directly to people in this household. Maybe someone from her future should take over babysitting duty from a certain present-day Slayer before that Slayer starts building a timeline?" Charlie asked.

"Fine. Go," Catherine agreed. As the medic turned to head for the opening still under Ruda's watchful guard, she added, "But if you don't see Faith or Willow when you poke your head out there, come back here on the double. I don't want you to get lost in these tunnels."

"Will do," Charlie agreed.

"Wait! I think we should go with," Andrew said.

"I think we should stay put," Dawn huffed with crossed arms.

"But why? Our job is done here. We've already saved the day. Now it's time for us to rest on our laurels and start composing Klingon operas about our deeds," Andrew said.

"How can I put this?" Dawn thoughtfully tapped her chin with a forefinger, "We can go out there with only a doctor and his medical scanner for protection, maybe running into whatever Xander and Robin are fighting, while we try to find Faith and Willow, neither of whom are exactly what you'd call sane on their best of days. Or," Dawn held up her finger, "we could stay put and be protected by Catherine, the expert fighter, Ruda, the Slayer, and J'nal, the powerful witch."

"When you put it that way…" Andrew sickly said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," Dawn nodded.

"I'll ummm, go stand by Ruda. The Slayer," Andrew quickly said as he retreated.

"You could have gone with Charlie, you know," Catherine said to Dawn.

"No thanks," Dawn said firmly. "Given the way things are going? I'd rather take my chances with you guys. My name is Dawn, not Dumb."

TBC…


	56. Command Decisions

****

Part 56: Command Decisions

When Charlie stepped out of the narrow tunnel, the first thing he noticed was a low, guttural chanting underscored by an even lower growl that echoed through his bones. There were scattered lights from the headlamps, but they seemed to float frozen in mid-air, as if the wearers were standing very still.

He cautiously turned his head toward the scattered lights, letting the beam cut through the darkness. The jumbled image that met his eyes was difficult to comprehend. The noiseless tangle of Slayers mixed in with Robin looked like they were frozen in mid-throw. The overlap of arms, legs, and torsos didn't make sense, especially since there was no sign that anyone was even moving through the air.

The only way to describe it was that they were just **there**.

The guttural chanting just kept going as if it's owner didn't even notice that Charlie standing in the cavern with a big ol' bull's eye on his head.

Despite the fact that his flesh was goosepimpling in terror, he kept scanning the area. _This is an incredibly stupid time to pretend you are anything approaching brave, you idiot,_ his mind snippily told him. Logic managed to overrule the urge to run and get Ruda. The incessant chanting coupled with the low rumble in the darkness seemed to indicate that someone was in an awful lot of trouble. If whatever was out there planned to take a shot at him it would've done it by now.

Just when he was about to give up and get Ruda, his light settled on a scene that made his blood freeze. He saw Willow standing with hands poised. At a guess, she was the source of the chanting. Lying on the ground at her feet was…

__

Oh, futch! Alexander and Faith!

The kick in his gut told him that something had gone seriously wrong with Faith's plan to evacuate Willow before even more big trouble rained down on their heads. He quickly snapped out of his paralysis and began running towards the witch, hoping like hada that Willow's mind was trapped in the future and not aware of the present unfolding around her.

As he ran, he blindly punched a couple of quick keystrokes into his medical scanner, thanking all the gods of all the Colonies— including Catherine's now-helpless Founders— that he'd kept a particular J'Nal-related treatment program in his scanner.

Luck was on his side since Willow didn't seem to see him as she muttered her incantation. Faith's breath began to desperately hitch as she labored to draw breath. The doctor registered that Alexander was not reacting at all, a very bad sign. He snapped the empty canister into his scanner and muttered, "Come on, come on, come on," as the viscous blue liquid filled it. The scanner hadn't even beeped completion when Charlie yanked it out and slammed the canister into the back of Willow's neck.

Willow stumbled back a few feet before collapsing in a fit of giggles. The moment the witch fell, Faith was on her feet and breathing hard. "What? How? Who?" the Slayer demanded.

Behind him, Charlie could hear the sound of bodies falling to the ground as four girlish voices sent up protests and one male voice loudly groaned in pain.

"I just chemically shut down her ability to do magic using a mild sedative," Charlie shortly explained as he kneeled next to the fallen Alexander. The other man immediately responded to the bright light shining in his face by blindly lashing out, catching Charlie in the temple. As the doctor fell back on his ass, Alexander began fighting to get upright. Faith intervened and forced the young man to lie back down on the ground.

"S'okay. We're cool. We're good," she urgently said as she kneeled over him. "Doc's trying to fix you up right."

"Whoh?" Alexander asked. By the way he was gasping for breath, Charlie could tell he was having a hard time breathing.

"Me. Faith."

Alexander seemed disoriented until he focused on the worried woman holding him in place and cringed. Faith responded by immediately releasing him in a move so quick that Charlie thought sure she'd been burnt by fire.

"Just tryin' to keep you from hurtin' yourself more," Faith said quietly as she got to her feet and stepped back for good measure.

Charlie turned his head to look for his medical scanner. He spotted it next to a headlamp, which must've come off Alexander's head when whatever Willow did to him happened. He grabbed both, checked the headlamp, and sighed with relief when he saw it was still working. Just at that moment, the sound of running caught his attention. He turned and saw four grim-looking girls thundering over to his position with swords drawn. "It's all right," he called out. "Willow can't do any harm right now."

"Xander okay?" One of the girls asked.

"I need to do a scan…" Charlie began.

"Girls, let the doc work," Faith interrupted. "Remember your orders. Vi, back to Robin. You guys, fan out. I've got this covered." When the girls hesitated, Faith added for emphasis, "Go. I'll make sure it's all right."

There was a grumbled protest, but Charlie saw one of the girls move to Robin's side while the others took up positions by several tunnel openings. Terrific. Looked like he had another patient.

"Youh ahl righ'?" Alexander asked as he waved weakly at Faith through labored breaths.

"I, unh, I'm okay. Still got the Slayer mojo." Faith sounded surprised he bothered to ask.

"Whiill? Ahl righ'?" Alexander managed to gasp out.

"Doc?" Faith asked. "Willow gonna be okay?"

"Yes." Charlie began as he stumbled over to the Slayer and Alexander. "She's temporarily shut down because the pharma is running interference, but we still have to get her out of here. What I did wasn't exactly the safest thing for her, especially since I don't have her medstats. I need to get her in the open so I can get a better look at her."

"That's doesn't sound none too good," Faith remarked.

"Both of you took quite a hit," the doctor ignored her as quickly scanned both Faith and Alexander. "Looks like that high you were fighting is now busy helping your Slayer heeling toss off the effects of Willow's spell."

"Don't mind sayin' that I'm relieved to hear I won't be going on a drug-induced rampage any time soon," Faith rolled her shoulders. "How bad is he?"

"The others?" Alexander interrupted. He winced as he tried to take a deep breath. "Ohkay?"

"They're good. Back to sentry duty like you told 'em," Faith assured him. She gave Charlie a sidewise look. "He's having a lotta trouble breathing, like he's got asthma or something."

"That's because the systemic paralysis Willow initiated on both of you is taking longer to wear off on him since he lacks your Slayer physical resistance. He'll be breathing normally in five or ten minutes," Charlie said as he tapped the readout scanner. "It doesn't help he's got bruised ribs and more than a few pulled muscles in the thoracic region. But, here's the good news, no broken bones and, best of all, no brain injury."

Alexander coughed a laugh. "Who'd know the diff?"

"Stop it," Faith snapped.

Alexander winced, clenched his teeth, and folded into fetal position as he fought to draw bigger gulps of air into his lungs. Faith grabbed Charlie and pulled him a little away. "He doesn't look good, so what's the real deal doc?" She held up a finger and in a warning tone added, "And don't Nixon me."

__

Nixon must mean lie, judging by her voice, Charlie guessed. "Bruises, contusions, internal soft-tissue trauma. Nothing I can't handle, like I told you," Charlie reassured her. "Good thing I gave him a treatment for his hand earlier. There were enough active metabolites from the pharma I gave him yesterday to act as a weak prophylactic."

Faith was silent a moment before rendering a thoughtful, "Hunh?"

"If I hadn't treated him for injuries to his hand, he'd be a lot worse off than he is now," Charlie replied as he focused on the scanner and, with a few button pushes, recalled the stored program for Alexander.

"Doc? Are you saying he could be dead right now if not for you?" There was an odd, strangled tone to Faith's voice as she asked the question.

__

Step carefully old boy. He looked down at Faith and deliberately said, "I didn't say that. Like I said, when the spell wears off he'll be able to get to his feet, but he'll be feeling it. I can give him a healing factor boost to help him shake off the effects of the spell along with an adrenal boost to get him on his feet faster. But there's a trade-off."

Faith slowly blinked and said, "So, you're gonna give him something that'll get him on his feet all Slayer-like, but he's gotta pay?"

"Not exactly right, but close enough for practicalities," Charlie nodded, pleased that Faith got the gist. "The thing is, the boost to his system will help him in the short run, but when he crashes he's going to crash hard."

"How long?"

"Within the next eight or nine standard hours."

Faith shook her head. "You know, any other day but today? I'd say no problem, but…"

"Ooooooh, I'm hearing you all on frequencies there," Charlie agreed.

"Run it by Xander. If he can live with it, we'll live with it," Faith said. "Once you've got him squared you better check on Robin."

"What's the problem?"

"Not 100 percent sure," Faith shuffled uncomfortably. "Things went batshit before I had a chance to ask."

"Right. Faith, Alexander will be fine. I promise. And if I can do anything for Robin, I will."

"Yeah, do what you can," Faith said absently as her worried gaze wandered until it settled on the Willow-shaped giggling mound.

Charlie reached out and grabbed her hand in a comforting move. Given the Slayer's startled reaction, it probably wasn't the best thing he could've done, but he held on just the same. "Don't blame her. She didn't know what she was doing."

"I'm not," Faith slowly replied, a shadow of something crossing her face. "But at some point, 'not in my right mind' ain't really an excuse for shit like this." She looked over at Alexander, who seemed to be finally be catching his breath, but the labored breathing made it clear that it wasn't easy for the man. "What just fucking kills me is he knew. He fucking knew she could tear him into bloody pieces just by **thinking **it was a damn fine idea and there'd be shit-all he could do about it. I just don't understand why he even bothers even trying when he knows…" She gave her head a hard shake and pulled her hand away. "Forget it. Ain't nothin'."

Given what Catherine had told him about Faith's on attempt on Alexander's life, Charlie knew that this was big deal to Faith no matter how hard she tried to shake it off. He also knew better than to even pretend to understand what she was talking about.

"Well, I seem to recall that history records that Alexander has quite the habit of stepping in front of bullets," he said casually. "Some people will try anything to keep people they care about safe and sane."

"Yeah, well, some people have more heart than brains, I guess," Faith's voice was testing and prodding in that not-terribly-subtle way most Slayers had. Charlie suspected she was trying to tease more information out of him.

Charlie turned away, forcing himself to focus on his first patient. "I'm a little worried about balancing this. Too little and it'll do no good. Too much and he'll be useless."

"Right. I'll motor out of your way." There was a pause. "What about Willow?"

"Temporarily declawed, like I said. And I do mean temporary. When we get to the surface, I'll administer a slightly stronger sedative that'll keep her mystical defenses in check and send her off to dreamland."

"I'll stick with Willow. Make sure she doesn't go wandering off." With that pronouncement, Faith's feet trudged across the gravelly soil until she reached the witch, who was now sitting as if she were meditating and making "oooooooom" sounds.

"Alexander?" Charlie asked as he kneeled next to the fallen man.

Alexander once again struggled to sit upright. Although he was still breathing as if he were winded, he seemed to be finally getting some oxygen into his system. "Not used to bein' cahll tha'."

"I'm going to give you some medication to ease the breathing," Charlie placed a supporting hand on his shoulder, "and a boost of adrenalin. Just a warning that when the boost wears off, you're going to drop like a rock."

"How…"

"Long?" Charlie interrupted. When he got a nod in response, he added, "Hopefully, it'll hold you eight standard ours. I can't guarantee longer than that. And you'll still be feeling your injuries even until then, so…"

"Dho i'."

Charlie made short work of creating the necessary mix and forcing the filled pellet underneath the skin. "Better?" he asked.

"Good enough," Alexander winced as he started to get to his feet. He didn't say no when Charlie offered him an assisting hand.

"How's the breathing?" Charlie asked as he handed the taller man the headlamp.

"Feels like my lungs are loosening up. Thanks," Alexander nodded. He fixed the light's band around his head and winced at the movement. "Man, you weren't kidding about the ouchiness, were you? I feel like I've gone three rounds with a Mack truck and that the truck won."

"Take it easy for a little bit before you…" Charlie's instructions were interrupted by a screeching roar.

Alexander looked worriedly around, light from his headlamp bouncing off the glittering walls. "I hope that's the sound of a pissed off snake and not the sound of snake that just escaped."

"I better check on Robin."

"What about Willow?" Alexander demanded.

"I don't have time…look, consult with Faith. I have to check Robin first. Willow will be as fine as she can be until we get her aboveground."

Alexander frowned before he gave Charlie a curt nod. As Alexander made his way over to Faith and Willow, Charlie headed for Robin. He tried to ignore the echoing soundtrack of something lowly growling its displeasure in the darkness beyond the scattered headlamps. Whatever it was in the tunnels sounded big and dangerous. The end result was that Charlie felt relief when he reached Robin, if only because there was a Slayer stationed right next to him. As he kneeled down to take a closer look at his new patient, relief immediately turned to worry. Charlie didn't like the lump topped by the wound or the way the man seemed out of it. The Slayer— _I think Faith called her…Vi? Wait, wait, not **Violet**! Is it?— _was doing her best to offer comfort as she kneeled next to Robin, but it was clear that she wasn't sure what she could do.

"Will he be okay?" the girl said.

"Violet, right?" Charlie asked tentatively. When the girl nodded, he swallowed hard and tried to forget everything he knew about the girl. "Well, let me scan and find out."

One quick look at the readouts was enough to elicit a groan from Charlie. Worry had know notched up to _I can't futching **believe **my futching luck. _Then again, the way things had been going since they landed in 2003, he really should just learn to relax when fate decided to take another schlitzer on his head.

"That isn't a happy sound," Violet remarked.

"That's because it isn't," Charlie said. "He's got a very serious concussion."

"We could've told you that," Violet said.

"Told you what?" Faith breathed over his shoulder.

"Yike!" Charlie squeaked. He didn't even sense Faith coming up behind him. Just then another furious growl echoed in the darkness.

"That must be the snake," Violet said casually. "Guys! See anything?"

A chorus of "nos" did nothing to set Charlie's mind at ease.

"I can't help Robin," Charlie explained as he did his best to refocus on the immediate problem.

"What? Why not? Just stick some dope in him like you did me and Xander," Faith demanded.

"Faith, even in my time period the brain is still considered a very delicate instrument," Charlie patiently explained. "Robin has a serious concussion. That translates to brain injury. I could try something, but that might lead to greater problems."

"But…" Faith began.

"**Listen **to me," Charlie interrupted impatiently. "He's not a Slayer and he doesn't have a Slayer's unique chemistry. I can't just 'shoot him full of dope,' whatever the hada 'dope' is, to boost something he doesn't have to take care of an injury that's tricky to treat under the best of circumstance."

"But Xander ain't a Slayer and…" Faith insisted.

"Alexanderdid not have any brain injuries. All his problems were straightforward cuts, scrapes, bruises, and temporary paralysis, even when the cause was mystical. That's a whole different conversation," Charlie was practically shouting his frustration. "Not only that, I already had a stored medical program for Alexander. I **don't** for Robin. I don't even want to try dealing with the concussion because nothing short of bed rest, fluids, and observation is going to help."

"Short supply around here," Alexander's voice said.

Charlie looked up at the interruption and saw that Alexander had joined the knot around Robin. Willow was standing next to him jabbering in a foreign tongue that included an awful lot of clicks of the tongue.

"Faith?" Alexander said quietly. "Maybe we should just try to get Robin out of here."

Faith frowned at Alexander for a moment before directing a last question at Charlie. "You sureyou can't do anything?"

"If he were a Slayer, I'd do for him what I did for you." Charlie shrugged his relief. Alexander's suggestion to evacuate Robin seemed to have calmed the elder Slayer down. "Hada, even if I had a stored medical program I might, just **might, **give it a shot just to see if I could at least get him on his feet."

"In short, two strikes against you already, so let's not go for a third," Alexander winced.

"Hunh?" Charlie asked.

"Baseball," Violet clarified as if it should mean something.

Charlie decided now was not the time to get distracted by asking for a clarification. "I'll be in the evacuation party. That's why I was out here to begin with. Someone needs to watch Willow very carefully."

"And better you than someone from the past," Faith nodded.

"What? Why?" Violet asked. Robin let out a low moan, which distracted Vi just enough so she could shush him and grab his hand.

Willow started giggling. "Stop it! Stop it! I'm trying to concentrate…oh don't flash your tongue stud at me, you little hussy minx…"

Alexander gave Willow a worried glance. "Count me in on not wanting to hear any more."

"Amen," Faith agreed. "Well, Willow needs to get out of here anyway, so what's one more injured person? You're going to have your hands full, even with the doc's help."

"**I'm **going to have my hands full?" Alexander's eyebrows shot up. "I. Don't. Think. So."

"Last I checked I was in better shape than you," Faith shot back. "You should move your ass out of here before you get hurt even more. Plus, you got, what? Eight hours before you pitch headfirst into the ground? You need outta here more than I do."

Charlie saw Alexander's face darken dangerously and braced himself for a full-on Catherine-like snit. Instead, what came out of his mouth was far calmer than what Catherine would even bother with.

"I'm not a Slayer, Faith."

"Which is exactly my point," Faith argued back.

"Unh-oh," Violet said under her breath.

"That's right. That **is **the point," Alexander agreed. "Look around. Something's gone **wrong**. People are injured, **seriously** injured, and there was nothing about that in Assface's little black book. That means we can't assume anything."

Light seemed to dawn on Faith's face. "Like we can't assume there ain't another trap just waiting to get us. Shit." She looked around the cavern with a grimace. "Yeah, there is definitely a more-than-you-can-chew situation with the Grail and Willow, so much as I hate the fucking idea you got a point…"

Alexander relaxed. "Glad you see it my way."

"So, we send one of the newbies out with Willow and Robin and tell…" Faith looked at Violet, "her how the Grail's makin' her talk shit. No one can make heads or tails of it."

"Nice catch," Violet commented. "Did you know your nose twitches when you lie?"

"Vi…" Alexander shook his head. "Actually, sending one of the other Slayers— someone **not **named Vi," Alexander fixed Violet with a look, "and who hasn't heard this conversation is a good idea."

"Of course it…it is?" Faith seemed taken by surprise.

"It is," Alexander confirmed.

"Excuse me, Violet," Charlie said as he got up. He hooked his arm gently behind Faith's and Alexander's backs, and pulled them away from Violet and Robin. Once he was what he hoped was far enough away from Violet to prevent her from hearing what he hoped she wouldn't, he said, "Much as I don't want to agree on a Slayer guard because of…well…I won't get into the very long list of reasons why involving too much information about the future getting out, I have to go along with it because I have to think of Willow's and Robin's safety first and me alone isn't enough to protect them if something goes wrong. But, Faith, I'm afraid you're the best choice."

"Why?" the Slayer demanded. "I think I should stay right here."

"Frankly, both you and Alexander are the only logical choices to help me with Willow. You are at least aware of some possible…unh…events," Charlie said in an urgent low voice. When both Alexander and Faith continued to look doubtful, Charlie quickly added, "Do you **really** want certain information about the two of you to get out?"

Faith and Alexander exchanged glances. That one movement told Charlie that he just won the argument.

"Fine," Faith said. "I'm in. I don't fucking like it, but I'm in."

Alexander glanced at Willow over Faith's shoulder as he said, "Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Unlike before? Yeah, well, I didn't do so hot back there," Faith kicked the granular soil.

"You did the best anyone could, hell, probably better than me," Alexander said. He didn't notice the surprised look on Faith's face as he continued. "If I were in your shoes, I would've panicked. You at least got her out of there and had a plan to deal." He took a breath, gave Faith a tight smile, and added, "I know you'll be fine. Just…I dunno…do what you've been doing, I guess."

"Let's just hope a spanner doesn't come along and make it even harder than it's already been," Charlie said. "Don't forget, we still have to get you out of here within the next eight standard hours."

TBC…


	57. Not Exactly the 'ATeam'

****

**Part 57: Not Exactly the _A-Team_**

The mood on the battlefield had subtly shifted to a festive affair. Instead of a fight, they had a Slayer rodeo.

Buffy zipped between the different groups as they drove the dirt creatures to areas that just happened to be near water spigots. Part of her mission was to check up on everyone; part of it was to warn the others not to give in to temptation and start letting the water flow. She wanted to take these guys by surprise and she didn't want to chance that the Slayer squad's sudden interest in running water would give away the plan.

As she trundled over to what she'd dubbed the Key Group because of its proximity to the crypt, Giles fell into step next to her. "I dare say, Buffy, luck does seem to be on your side."

"Let's not count our monsters before they melt," Buffy said as she bounced over to the spigot. "All we know is they don't like water. If it doesn't work we might end up with killer mud pies."

"This afternoon it was Astroturf, tonight it's gooey goodness," Andrea giggled. She stopped. "Ummm, not that I'm planning to actually eat killer mud pies."

"Just keep them corralled," Buffy said with a resigned air.

Giles chuckled as Andrea wandered off. "At long last, you get to experience my pain."

"**Your **pain?" Buffy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Rambunctious youngsters with a penchant for mangled metaphors," Giles clarified. "At least you didn't say 'count our hatched chickens before we break eggs to make an omelet.'"

"Oooooh, that's a good one!" Buffy grinned. "I'm totally gonna use that in conversation really soon."

"Hopeless," Giles sighed as he hid his grin.

Buffy leaned over and conspiratorially added, "I even promise to give you full credit."

"I do beg you not to bother."

At that moment Buffy spotted Kennedy speeding across the lawn with a coiled hose around her shoulder.

"Cavalry is here!" Kennedy announced as she dumped the hose at Buffy's feet.

Giles immediately began hooking the hose up to the spigot.

"Are the others ready?" Buffy prompted.

"Which is why cavalry's gotta run. More hoses and buckets to deliver," Kennedy breathlessly explained. She tossed a half-wave, half-salute at Buffy and rendered a cheery, "See ya!" before taking off again.

"The woman does know how to make an entrance," Giles said good-naturedly as he stood up. "Well, do the honors?"

"Love to," Buffy said formally as she lifted the hose and took aim. She made sure to squeeze the rubber tight with one hand so the rushing water would be trapped until she was good and ready to let loose.

As Giles began turning on the spigot, Buffy called out, "Yoooo-hoooo! Dirt guys!"

This echoing call got the echoing response of female snickers. More than a few Slayers began grinning as they began driving the creatures closer to Buffy and her secret weapon.

When Buffy judged her adversaries were close enough, she let the trapped water loose with a shout of, "Surprise!"

Suffice to say there was a certain amount of crumbling in the opposing forces, coupled with scrambling panic, followed by the realization among the Slayers that they could now punch through their former tormenters.

To make a long story short, there was gleeful revenge to be had by all, up to and including the largest and most impressive mud fight in Cleveland's troubled history.

* * *

It was a long, tense trek. Faith was torn between checking Robin every five seconds, keeping Willow from acting too fruit loops, scanning the darkness for a potential threat, and keeping an eye on Charlie behind her as he helped Robin over the rough spots.

Once they reached the stairs, Charlie set Robin down. A few quick words hammered out a plan: Willow could barely walk, which meant Faith had to carry her. She couldn't be trusted alone, which meant Charlie had to go with to keep an eye on the witch while Faith went back to retrieve a waiting Robin.

After repeated 'don't moves' and 'yell if there's troubles' to Robin, they started up the stairs with Faith wearing Charlie's headlamp and Willow slung over her shoulder in a classic fireman's carry. Charlie did his best to keep up by going up the stairs on all fours.

Willow was practically deadweight as she giggled and mumbled something Faith tried desperately not to hear as they climbed the narrow stairs. She could sense Robin below, still grumbling that he swears he won't move. She hoped nothing would hurt him before she could get back down to him.

Yeah, it was over between them, but hell, she still cared whether he lived or died. Maybe he had a point about Slayers and Watchers and maybe not. The point was he thought he was right and she had to live with it. Maybe it was kind of a sign of growth that as unhappy as she was about it, she wasn't tempted to force him to change his mind or make him regret it. She just hoped that someday they'd be able to look each other in the eye without remembering that someone somewhere had royally screwed the pooch. She wondered which one of them would be thinking that they got a raw deal when they looked back on that fight in the kitchen.

She was still just selfish enough to hope that it wouldn't be her.

"How are you doing?" Charlie whispered.

Faith didn't look over her shoulder. "Are you sure Robin'll be all right by himself down there?"

"Willow's more likely to go wandering off than Robin," Charlie reminded her. "Even if Robin got to his feet, he won't get far."

She knew that. She just hated that how she'd been backed into making decisions since she walked into the dark. Every single decision was either/or with very little and. All of it was based on who is less hurt than someone else and who could survive five fucking minutes without her watching their back. She wondered if there also wasn't some subtle balancing act going on between who was less expendable than someone else, a subconscious weight that said Willow was less expendable than Dawnand Andrew. That Robin was more important to save than Xander. That she was more important than any of them because she's the one hauling ass when she's got nothing more than a few bruises to show for her pain.

But if she was dancing on the seesaw, she damn well knew that she wasn't dancing alone. Xander could be here instead of her and he practically shoved her in this direction by being something resembling logical.

The scariest thing about all this was the fact that if she stuck around and stuck it out, she would be dancing between checks and balances her entire life. Didn't matter what the personal relationships were between herself or anyone else. The fact is, the people back there with the Grail and the people dealing with the monsters were trusting her to not fuck up, even though a few of them knew just how badly she could fuck up without even trying.

Fuck. Maybe Robin does have a damn good point because she can't help but wonder if, on that deep-down level that she can't bear to look at, the journal and Catherine and Ruda and the –rah-sen bullshit and the screwed-up future hinted at in Willow's laughter was maybe pushing her to make thisdecision instead of that decision.

When Faith finally reached the top, she told Charlie to halt for a second so she could get the lay of the land. Doing her best to hold Willow in one place with one hand, she took that final step up and poked her head over the lip of the sarcophagus. She was extremely grateful when she saw that the crypt was exactly the way she left it, including no surprise visitors. With any luck, B already had things under control and it'll be easy breezing when she opened that door to the outside world.

Happy the coast was clear, the Slayer practically dragged the witch over the lip of the sarcophagus and turned to help Charlie, only to find that the doc was doing just fine without her.

"I'm so proud of you."

Faith turned immediately back to Willow. Her voice sounded so…odd.

"Look at you," Willow regarded her with watery eyes, "you're such…when did you become an adult?" The redhead reached out a trembling hand and tenderly brushed aside a strand of Faith's hair and tucked it behind her ear.

"Now, now, I've a right to be worried," Willow continued, as a gentle finger slid down Faith's cheek and came to rest under her chin. "You look so much like your grandmother when she was your age." Willow giggled in a voice that hinted at the ghost of a much older woman. "Did I also mention you've got your grandfather's personality?"

Faith took a step back. Willow didn't seem threatening, but she'd just gotten a first class lesson in how this shit could turn on a dime.

"Your grandparents…" Willow closed her eyes as if she were fighting back tears. "They'd be proud of you." She opened her eyes and gave her a sad smile. "You didn't know your grandmother and you were so young when your grandfather passed, so I guess you'll have to take my word on that."

Faith froze, fascinated as Willow tilted her head and added, "I loved both of them you know. I loved them both so much and I just wish they were here to see you now." Maybe it was the trick of the light or maybe it was the ghost of what will be shining through, but Willow seemed so much older than she was. "They'd be worried, but they'd be proud of you. I know that. But this is your time and I know you'll be all right."

Faith opened her mouth to speak, but Willow moved and gently laid a trembling hand on her right arm. "I have a surprise for you. Now. Close your eyes."

"I don't think that's such a hot idea," Faith protested in a whisper.

"Shush! I said close them." Willow reached out and covered Faith's eyes with the palm of her hand. "Now, hold out your hands."

"I don't beeeelieve this," Faith muttered, her heart racing. Just the same, morbid curiosity forced her to do what Willow said. Robin was forgotten. The fact that Charlie was in the room was forgotten. Everyone working out the deal with the Grail, Xander and the Slayers waiting in the darkness below, Buffy and her people fighting outside, it all seemed unreal, like a story that was happening to someone else.

"Now, open your eyes."

Faith did as she was told. She half-expected to see something and was disappointed when her open palms remained as empty as they were when she first held them out.

Charlie interrupted. "I don't think…"

"Shush," Faith hissed. She could feel a string tugging her forward and she was powerless to resist. _Just a moment, one little moment and I'll…_

What? Depended on what waited at the other end of the string, she supposed.

Willow was rubbing her hands over the surface of something. "Your grandfather really did know his wood. I still can't believe how beautiful these carvings are."

__

_Xander?_ Had to be. He was the only one she knew who was a freak about wood. He was all about the hardwood floors in the house, going on and on about rock maple and how they needed that high gloss finish so Slayers running riot through the rooms wouldn't do too much damage.

"I always thought he missed his calling," Willow continued. "He should've created things like this instead of…" Willow looked at her, a small hint of an old sorrow reflected in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I still…the fact he died alone so the others could get that cure out…I still feel guilty that I wasn't there to at least…I know I shouldn't but…"

__

_Someday he'll be some Slayer's first._ Goddamn Kennedy for putting that thought in her head. Goddamn Giles for making that possibility a possible reality.

Willow shook her head, brave smile back in place. "Open it," she whispered.

Charlie shuffled nervously behind her, but didn't say anything.

"Don't wanna," Faith whispered back.

Well, whoever she was supposed to be did open the box because Willow's smile turned beatific. "Now that sword…" she laughed and shook her head. "Your grandmother marched right into that lair and wonit from the keeper in a bet." The Witch tapped her head knowingly with a finger. "Your grandmother liked to pretend she was Slay hard play hard, but when she set her mind to it she knew how to sneak through the back door when the front door was barred."

Willow reached into what Faith assumed was the box, grasped something with two hands, and lifted it, stumbling under the nonexistent weight. "Beautiful, isn't it," Willow said as she gazed with awe up at the invisible sword in her hand. "Take it."

Faith just stood there, palms still outstretched because she didn't know how to grab swords she can't see.

Willow stepped away, since whoever she was talking to had taken the sword, and linked her hands behind her back. "I can see you feel the power." She chuckled indulgently. "No, your grandmother never did wield it. I asked her once why and she told me that it wasn't hers." Willow tilted her head. "I suppose it **did **belong to the keeper she won it from, but she was very clear that the sword was not for her but for you."

Faith swallowed hard.

Charlie groaned. "Faith, please…"

"Shush!" Willow waved. "I can't answer. It's a story I can't tell. Let an old witch keep her secrets, hmmm?" There was a twinkle in her eye. "I can tell you that she said someone told her it wasn't hers and that I'd know whose it was when the time came."

Faith could feel the cold shivers crawl up her back. Oh, yeah. She knew who told her the sword wasn't hers, and it wasn't no sword keeper either.

Willow mimed taking the sword into her hands and laying it in the box. "Funny how I only just now figured out what Faith meant," the redhead muttered. Her head came up. There was a twinkle in her eye and a mischievous smile gracing her lips. "Now your grandmother…end of the day she turned out to be a real hero. Only one of us that got public acknowledgement for being a hero."

And there it was: proof positive that some day she was going to have a last battle.

Willow chuckled. "Your grandmother never did do things by halves. Running into that mess the way she did…saved some people against all odds but still…"

"Oh futch," Charlie breathed. "Faith, please…"

Willow's face got serious. "I miss her. I miss him. More than ever these days but…" She gave Faith a sad smile. "I'll see them both soon enough and I'll tell them all about you."

Faith opened her mouth, although she wasn't entirely sure what she could possibly say.

"Now, now," Willow engulfed her in a hug, "allow me to be misty, eh?" She drew back and studied Faith's face. "You're a good girl, Kayleigh. You come from good people who were brave and strong and you are so much like both of them. You'll get this bastard. Wait and see." Willow exploded in laughter. "I can too swear like a…"

The witch suddenly jerked away and began yelling, "Andrew! How many times have I told you not to leave the ancient-y books on the floor? Do you know how much they cost? See? The pages are all ripped because Buffy stepped on it!"

Faith could only stand there like a mook as Willow talked to someone named Johanna about teaching Andrew a lesson about respect for property. She could still feel the weight of an invisible box holding a not-yet-existing weapon in her outstretched palms.

"Are you okay?" Charlie asked her.

__

Now there's the question of the hour. Scratch that: it's the goddamn question of the fucking century.

"Faith?" Charlie prompted.

Live fast, kick ass, and don't leave skid marks when you go. A motto that— and Faith had to admit this— served her maybe not too well, all things considered. Lacking anything better to live by, well, it was at least a philosophy she could hang her hat on.

Except…

Except…

Right here and right now in this crypt, holding this gift in the palms of her waiting hands, with tomorrow lurking on the other side of that crypt door, living for the moment wasn't enough. It wasn't **nearly **enough.

It was never going to be enough again.

"Lanoire-rah?" Charlie's voice sounded small and distant.

And if it wasn't enough for **her**, it wasn't enough for anyone else, was it? The future belonged to everyone, didn't it? And what you did right here and right now could give the future to someone or take it away.

__

And once you take someone's future away, how the hell do you give it back?

She felt a small touch on her shoulder. "Lanoire-rah-sen?"

"I'm fine." She dropped her hands, clenching them into fists so hard that the nails bit into the palm of her hands.

"I was worried," Charlie voice flooded with relief. "You went away for moment."

"Just a moment," Faith echoed. "Kayleigh. One of mine?"

"I can't tell you that," Charlie said quickly, but his guilty face gave her the answer she suspected.

"Will you be all right? With her?" Faith nodded in Willow's direction. The witch was miming something, as if she were picking things up and putting them on a shelf.

"No danger. You best get Robin," Charlie assured her.

Faith lightly leapt on to the edge of the crypt to prepare for another descent, but Charlie's voice halted her for a moment.

"I'm sorry, you know," the doctor looked genuinely sad, "it's not all bad. What Willow said…you've just heard the worst bits about…well, you know."

Faith looked down at the palms of her hands and for a moment she could almost see that lovingly created wooden box and that thing-of-beauty weapon. She wanted to laugh so long and so hard and never, ever stop.

Somewhen, somehow, and against all odds someone, maybe even more than one someone, was going to love **her** just because. That was worth everything she had just to have that much.

It was a selfish thought, true. But damn, it did feel some kind of good.

"Doc, if that's the worst the future has to offer then bring it on." She flashed the doctor a wicked grin and leapt away before Charlie could say anything more.

Crazy as it may sound to people who weren't Faith, she could only think as she bounded down the stairs, _Hey! Check me out, ma! Top of the fucking world!_

* * *

This is the part where I call myself an idiot.

What the hell was he thinking?

__

Why, no, Faith. I think **you **should grab the wounded and run. I'll just stand here like a lump and let something evil snack on my steaming entrails. What steaming entrails? Why, the steaming entrails that will be all over the place when something evil rips my guts out. I've already been stabbed in the gut once. Don't need a repeat. Have you ever been stabbed in the gut? It sucks the big one…

Somewhere in his panicked mental babble, he realized he was having an imaginary screaming hissy fit with an imaginary Faith who damn well did know what it was like to get stabbed in the gut. Since they both got stabbed by supernaturally strong whatevers, it was going to come down to who got stabbed with the bigger point-y thing.

__

Yeah, well, you got stabbed with a pussy knife! I got stabbed with a **sword**. Okay, not a sword, but a really big knife! Top that one baby!

Oh, wait. She got a coma. He got a dirty bandage and a chance to loudly bitch that he wanted to be gay.

__

Yeah, well…at least you've got both your eyes!

Ha! Let's see her beat that on the my-battle-scars-are-worse-than-your-battle-scars hit parade.

Dear god. He's already beginning to sound like his mother's father. _I was at Anzio you little prick! Don't tell me burning your hand hurt!_

You know? That whole thing about getting a vasectomy? Sounded better and better the more he poked at it.

"Xander?" Vi tentatively asked.__

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why? Don't I look fine?"

"It's just, ummm, you're kind of smiling. Crazy flakes smiling."

"Vi? My scariest relative on this or any other planet, plus some of her best friends, are staying the week at our humble home and spending mucho quality time with us. I deserve parade for holding on to the tiniest of tiny threads of sanity I've got left."

"You're ranting."

"Yes. Yes I am. I've **earned **this rant," Xander huffed. "Ergo, I rant, therefore I'm still sane. Sort of."

Vi considered that a moment. "Oh. Well. As long as you're fine then."

"Now that that's settled…"

Whatever Xander was about to say was cut off by a screeching roar.  
(OW! OW! OW! OW!)

"You know," Vi nervously licked her lips, "I'm amazed we sorta forgot about the snake."

"Yeah, well, nothing a like little uproar and a few injuries to distract you from the little things," Xander said grimly.

Vi blinked at that. "That snake is a **little **thing?"

"Not so much, which means we better get to it then," Xander said absently. "Yo! Ladies! Anything?"

"There's movement," Barbara said nervously as she backed away from her cave opening.

"What?" Xander strode over to her, crossbow at the ready while he grabbed a bolt with his free hand. "When did it start?"

"I'm not sure." Barbara seemed embarrassed. "I got kinda distracted what with Willow and the spell, and Faith and you arguing about who was going to get Robin and Willow out, plus with all the roaring and noise and…"

"Ooooh! Way to go Barbara!" Sally shouted sarcastically. "Way to stay on the case!"

"Hey! I didn't hear you shouting a warning!" Vi snipped back at Sally while Lisa shouted a "yeah" to back Vi up.

"Ladies! Not now! Bigger problems!" Xander snapped. He turned to Barbara and could see the Slayer literally shrinking in on herself, as if she was something resembling worried that he'd land on her like a ton of bricks for not saying something sooner. "Look, Barbara, I'm not going to say it's okay because it's not. If our friend's made a break for it, our sitch just got a whole lot more complicated."

Barbara looked down and nodded.

"But I understand, okay? Besides, you aren't the only one who got distracted by everything." Did he sound reassuring? God, he hoped he sounded reassuring, because he didn't feel reassured at all. Even his not-at-all-Slayer hearing could pick up movement and growling in the echoes. "Let's just concentrate on the problem we've got right in front of us."

"How?" she asked.

There's Barbara looking at him with her big green eyes asking him that question. For the millionth time since he landed in Cleveland, Xander seriously wondered when the hell people started looking at him like he was an adult, because right about now he felt like he was fifteen again and dealing with vampires for the first time.

"Just listen for a sec and see if you can pinpoint where mouse-breath might be lurking." He turned around and faced the three other ashen-faced Slayers and added in a slightly louder voice. "Same goes for the rest of you."

"Ummmm, Xander?" Lisa asked as she took a step back.

"We all need to really **listen**."

"Xander?" Barbara tugged at his sleeve.

"Maybe between the five of us…"

Sally drew her sword. "Xander, I think…"

"Let me finish! I was going to say that between the five us we might be able to triangulate where that thing is."

Vi darted forward, grabbed Xander by the arm, and dragged him forward. "Would right behind you be a good enough guess?"

Xander jerked around just in time to see a very large forked tongue flick out of the cave. "Oh shit! Nice warning guys!"

ROOOOOOOOWL!  
(Walnut brain! You. Are. Going. Down.)

As the snake thrust its head through the opening, Xander could see that patches of its skin were rubbed raw and that it was bleeding from countless places. He figured rage must've been fueling the thing because the injuries sure as hell didn't seem to slow it down.

He retreated behind the girls and began loading the bolt. "Wait for an opening before you attack," he hissed. "No running right into that thing's teeth."

"Aim for the eyes, right?" Vi asked. She winced. "Ummm, sorry about that."

"Vi? Eyes are always a good place to start," Xander grimly replied while he took aim.

He would've had a clear shot, but the snake had ideas that didn't involve sitting pretty and letting itself get seriously clobbered by a one-eyed guy with a crossbow and four Slayers with swords.

With a drawn-out hiss, the snake charged straight for them.  
(Wonder if you'll keep running after I bite your head off Walnut Brain.)

The five combatants scattered rather than risk getting scooped up in the snake's open jaws. When Xander felt he'd put enough distance between himself and the snake he turned, aimed…

…and noticed the snake was looking right at him.

SSssssssssss.  
(Know what pisses me off? You smell like you'll taste like dead, wet, rotten rat.)

Xander let loose with a bolt.

The snake charged.

He missed.

Xander zigged and barely avoided getting turned into lunch by a mere two feet.

He spun around and noticed that he was close enough to the snake to see yet another new detail. "Terrific," he muttered as he stumbled backwards, juggling the crossbow as he reached over his shoulder to grab a new bolt. "Hey guys! Looks like this thing's got superfast healing. There's new scales already growing in."

RUUUURSSSSSS.  
(And your voice? Gets. On. My. Nerves. You squeak worse than a mouse.)

The snake was busy orienting itself for a new angle of attack when Sally and Barbara zipped over to their target. He noticed that the two Slayers were worrying at the still bleeding areas just behind the snake's head with their swords.

"Lisa? Vi? You okay?" Xander asked as he looked desperately around.

"We're good," Vi shouted as she trotted over to him with Lisa in tow. "We're trying to figure out the best way to get at this thing. Not too sure swords are going to do more than get it angry."

GROWL!  
(Owwwww! Hey! That hurts! Behave!)

Xander muttered a string of curses under his breath as he loaded his crossbow, took aim…

…and Sally stepped right into his line of fire.

"Damn it!" Xander shouted as he moved to get into a position that wouldn't take out a Slayer.

__

_Yeah, good luck with that. Barbara and Sally are all over…_ "Barbara what the hell are your doing?" he yelled.

Barbara had somehow, don't ask him how, managed to get on top of the thrashing snake just behind its head. She held on a few seconds before she was unceremoniously tossed in his direction. Xander, Vi, and Lisa jumped out of the way as she landed with a grunt on the gravel ground.

"You know? I'm really sick and tired of getting tossed around," she snarled. "I suck at this Slayer thing."

Xander would've offered something reassuring had the snake not decided to make a run for their happy little group.

Five minutes of scrambling later, Xander once again found himself the focus of the snake's less-than-fuzzy intentions.

HIIIIISSSSSSSSS.  
(For the record? I'm going to win.)

"Unh, Xander?" Vi's voice echoed from an unseen shadow. "Is it me? Or does that snake really want you?"

"Suuuuuuure. Why not?" Xander rhetorically asked as he skittered to the right. He was not comforted to see the snake make a darting motion in the same direction, all while keeping its visible eye on his person. "Demon magnet man strikes again," he added bitterly

"Maybe it hates you because you got it stuck in the tunnels?" Lisa asked as she ran by the snake's nose and swiped at it with her sword. She twisted backwards when the snake rewarded her efforts with a snarl and a tongue flick.  
(Ooooo, but you smell gooooood.)

"Nope. I'm pretty sure my aftershave is involved." Xander carefully scanned the area and saw the triple cave openings to his left. _Terrific. Right on my blind side. I hate having one eye. _Figuring there was nothing for it, he attempted to skitter to the left, only to see the snake dart in the same direction and a little closer to his position. He growled with frustration. "I've decided. Change my aftershave. I should go with Old Spice instead of that Calvin Klein stuff Dawn says makes me stink good."

RUUURRRRRL!  
(That explains the dead, wet, rotted rat smell.)

"Use Old Spice, you'll drive everyone away," Vi remarked as she appeared out of the shadows and moved over to Xander's blind side.

"What's wrong with Old Spice?" Xander asked as Vi grabbed him and yanked him away from yet another attempt on his life.

Vi began slowly herding him towards the cave openings. "It stinks. It reminds me of a boy that used to make fun of me. Plus, I'm allergic."

"Okay, how about something bug spray-ish. Think Off makes Demon Off or Demon Be-Gone?"

GROOOOOWWWLLLLL.  
(DO YOU TWO EVER SHUT UP?!?!)

"Yike!" Vi and Xander shouted and stereo.

"CHARGE!" Lisa, Sally, and Barbara shouted as they descended on the snake's head, whacking and smacking for all they were worth.

It at least bought Vi and Xander some breathing room.

"We've got to get you out of here," Vi said quickly. "That snake is really out to get you."

"Yup. It sure is, which is why I've cooked up a cunning plan."

"Please tell me it involves you running for safety?" Vi pleaded. "I really don't want to have to break the news that I let you become snake food."

Xander's head snapped around and he fixed Vi with a deadly glare. "Let's get one thing straight: you don't 'let' me do anything, hear?"

Vi hunched her shoulders. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…what I mean is, that snake really is aiming for you and I couldn't stand it if you were hurt."

"Getting hurt's part of the game, Vi," Xander said quietly. "If you stick around you're going to have to learn that and fast."

Vi gave him a hesitant nod.

The snake chose that moment to try and run over the three pests between it and Walnut Brain. The three attacking Slayers were forced to scramble closer to Vi and Xander in an effort to form a human shield while Vi dragged Xander closer to the three cave openings.

"Vi!" Xander shouted in exasperation. "Let me go!"

"But…"

"Now!" Xander roared.

Vi loosed her grip just enough to let Xander wiggle out of it. He hustled over to his human shield with Vi hot on his heels.

"Right. Quick plan guys. Vi! Stop trying to grab me and listen for a second, will you? We're going to make the snake's obsession work for us."

"How?" Sally asked.

"I'm going to play bait."

"Bait?" Barbara's eyes remained fixed on the snake, which had stopped charging. Its eyes remained fixed on them as its coils restlessly undulated and slithered. Xander could swear that monster was considering a new line of attack.

"But…" Vi began a protest.

"No buts." The tone in his voice managed to kill all debate. "See those caves behind us? I'm going to try to lure it back in there. Maybe try to get it stuck again."

"You only have two choices," Lisa pointed out. "You probably won't be able to get it to follow you down the cave you went in before."

"You guys went down the other two. Did they narrow at all?" Xander asked.

"Ours did. A lot," Vi said. "But it's not smooth running. We had to climb all over the place."

"Okay. Good. That's good," Xander nodded. "Vi, I'm going to run into the same cave you did. Make sure the snake sees me do it. Hold it just long enough to give me a good head start. Then, I want all three of you to back off and let it chase me."

"But…" Vi began again.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we're not having a lot of luck even hurting that thing," Xander interrupted. "Sooner or later one of us is pulling a Jonah unless we stop it from actually moving so we can kill it once and for all. Does anyone have a better idea? No? Okay then. Vi? Which tunnel?"

Vi tried one more protest. "I don't like using you as bait. It's wrong."

"Yeah, well, if you used me as bait without asking, you'd have a point. Since I'm volunteering, wrongability doesn't come into play."

Vi shook her head and finally capitulated. "You're the Watcher."

"I don't want to even know how you found that out," Xander flatly.

"Hey! Watcher Xander!" Barbara grinned.

"Yayness!" Sally cheered.

"Does this mean I have to let you win when we play video games?" Lisa giggled.

The snake started a feint, which was good enough to get Sally, Barbara, and Lisa to scatter and for Vi to make one more attempt at dragging Xander to the caves.

"Okay, okay. I'm going," Xander huffed. "Remember: make sure it sees me 'escape.' Got it?"

"Got it," Vi saluted while the other three Slayers began running interference with the snake.

"Vi…" Xander warned.

"Let it see you. Make sure to hold it long enough to give you a good head start. Let it go."

Xander glared at her while Vi gave him a pinball smile.

"Make sure you do," he ordered. He jogged over to the cavern entrance Vi indicated and shouted, "Yo! Rat breath!"

RUR!  
(Ho-ho! Gotchya!)

"I'm out of here!" Xander shouted. He turned and scrambled into the entrance.

GROWL!  
(Coward! Get back here and fight!)

Vi tightened her grip on her sword and jumped into the fray. Between swings she announced, "Guys, change of plans."

"Change of plans?" Barbara asked.

"But Vi, Xander said…" Lisa began.

"Xander is dead meat if this thing catches him," Vi cut her off. "We're Slayers. Our **job **is to keep him safe. Got it?"

"Fine," Sally agreed as she aimed for and missed the snake's nostril. "So what's the new plan?"

There was very Slayer glint in Vi's eyes. "Kick. Its. Ass."

"Kick its ass!" the other three Slayers roared.

And then the four pressed in for the kill, swinging their swords every step of the way.

TBC…


	58. Here's the Spanner in the Works…

****

Part 58: Here's the Spanner in the Works…

Buffy stood on the periphery of the mud fight with Giles and shouted encouragement while the girls giggled and tumbled with the last of the dirty creatures. She felt the high of a decisive victory where no one got killed. God she missed that feeling.

She was covered in dirt and grime, she could feel the bruises and scrapes, she was pretty sure she pulled something in her back, and not one whit of it mattered. Right here, right now, it was all good.

Plus, she called dibs on the first shower. Heh. Being a moldy oldie had its advantages and she damn well was going to use it.

"A most excellent job, I think," Giles nodded.

"I'm passing on the nonfat yogurt and going straight for a huge banana split," Buffy announced. "I think I could stand to have some extra-fattening goodness, especially if it comes with really gooey fudge."

"Perhaps we should hold off that oh-so-American tradition of over-consumption to mark this milestone and wait until our compatriots get to the surface?"

Something in Buffy deflated. "Don't you even dare suggest that…"

"Perish the thought." Giles seemed to be feeling as loopy as she was, if she could judge by his grin. "I best go check on the others to see how they are doing."

"No, I'll do it."

Giles placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've had a hard fight of it, so I do believe you should rest up a bit. Besides," Giles rolled his shoulders like a prize-fighter, "I still feel quite invigorated."

"Gonna take on some mud monsters?" Buffy asked.

"Not if I can help it." If anything, Giles's smile grew wider. "I'll be off. Stay here and enjoy your well-deserved bask in glory."

Buffy watched him disappear through the trees before turning her attention back to the still-wrestling girls. _Watch me bask, world! I'm a basking Buffy to end all basking Buffies. You might say I'm a regular basking case._

Sadly, it didn't last.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

Buffy jerked around at the sound of Faith's echoing voice. She saw the other elder Slayer propping up an apparently wobbly Robin while Charlie stood behind her with a hand on Willow's shoulder. They all looked the worse for wear, worse than the mud-covered Slayers in fact.

"I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!" Faith probably would've been jumping up and down in fury if Robin weren't using her as a prop. "WE'RE GETTING OUR ASSES KICKED AND YOU'RE DOING MUD WRESTLING NIGHT AT HOOTERS? I OUGHTTA…"

On "asses kicked," Buffy was off and running to get to Faith. _No, no, no, no…_her mind circled even as her stomach sank.

"Yo! B! Not so close! Stay right the fuck where you are," Faith ordered.

Buffy stopped a few yards from the bedraggled group, but protested about it anyway. "You said…"

"Trust me. We got ourselves a situation. Let me get over there to explain," Faith said as she awkwardly set Robin on the ground, positioning him so he could sit upright against the crypt wall. Once she was sure Robin was steady, the dark-haired Slayer jogged over to Buffy's position.

She looks like she just crawled out of a blender, Buffy thought as she felt her chest squeeze tight. _I should've gone with. I shouldn't've let them down there without me._ "Where's everyone else?" she demanded.

Faith winced as she came to a stop; a move that caused every scrape, cut, and bruise to stand out in the dim light of her headlamp. "There's some wacky shit up with the Grail that Catherine's still gotta sort out, so they might be a bit. Plus, Xander and his Fantastic Four were making plans to off the Grail's guardian, so they're pretty much tied up."

Buffy's nerves started singing a warning. "You left them all by…"

"I had wounded to get out," Faith clipped.

Robin was definitely out of it and now that she was closer Buffy could see he was sporting a good-sized gash right over his left eye. Willow, on the other hand, seemed just fine even if she was acting like…like…

"Her eyes," Buffy breathed. "Oh, god. Faith? What happened?"

"That's the situation I was trying to tell you about." Faith's head snapped up and she hollered over Buffy's shoulder, "All of you stay the hell back or I will kick your asses! Got me?"

"Do as she says," Buffy ordered without bothering to look behind her.

Faith gave her a surprised look before quietly saying, "Thanks for the back-up, B."

"Willow's gone black-eyed, which means big badness," Buffy said tightly. "So spill. Everything. Right now."

"Willow touched the Grail and it fried her noggin," Faith explained. She held up a hand the moment Buffy opened her mouth, "Lemme finish. Charlie thinks she's seeing stuff from the future."

"What?" Buffy choked out.

"Before you go getting any ideas, no one can make heads or tails what any of her weird ass mumbling means. Bonus, she hasn't lost none of her punch."

"Punch?"

Faith waved at her face. "I'm pretty sure I'm looking damaged. Hell, I can definitely feel the damage. Courtesy of a temper tantrum your good bud pitched against things that weren't there. She tossed all of us around like we weren't nothin'."

"Anyone hurt? Dawn?"

"Dawn was way safe and out of the way. Me 'n Xander took the brunt.

"Xander was **hurt **and you **left **him there!" Buffy's voice climbed the scale.

"Hey, yo, chill, he's got it all under..."

"Control?" Buffy could feel the rising panic. Dawn was in the hands of complete strangers. Xander was hurt and protected by nothing more than four newbies. And Faith.... "I can't believe you!" She snaked out a hand and snatched the light band off Faith's head and took off for the crypt.

"B! Buffy!"

Buffy paid no attention as she dove into the crypt's interior.

* * *

Faith moved to chase the other Slayer, but Charlie stepped in her way.

"You can't go," he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

"She's got no idea what's waiting for her down there," Faith protested.

"You're needed here." Charlie crossed his arms. "You have to keep the other girls away from Willow until I finish titrating her dose."

"Hunh?"

Charlie sighed. "I have to start with a small dose of sedatives and work my way to a larger dose..."

"Until she's knocked out. Got it." Faith looked over to the increasingly restless group of girls. "You gonna be okay if I turn my back on you for sec?"

"It's gotten so dark. So dark," Willow muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I feel cold."

Charlie tossed the witch a worried glance. "The neural shut-down is still holding, but the best way to make sure it stays that way until we can get her back to your household is to put her under. We should be fine. If not, I'll let out the loudest scream you've heard this side of a blood vid."

"Blood vid?" Faith waved her hands to stop him from answering. "Forget it. Get going doc."

Charlie gave her a curt nod and immediately turned his attention to Willow. He was muttering something encouraging while Willow shivered. She was repeatedly apologizing in a weak voice and trying to fall into a crouch while the doc held her. The look on her face…

Tragedy. It looks like a fucking tragedy.

Faith stepped slowly away as her formerly fuzzy feelings finished evaporating. She'd reached her limit and hoped like hell that she wouldn't be hearing any more future talk from Willow. She slid over to Robin and did a quick check. He was still out of it and trying to close his eyes for that nap.

Shit.

Faith stood up and jogged over to the group of filthy girls. They were all focused on Willow and whispering amongst themselves. There was a definite "on edge" feeling. Terrific. Hell of time for them to remember just how witch-y Willow could be.

"Yo! I need one of you ladies to keep an eye on Robin here." Faith kept her voice as level and as business-like as she could. "He got whacked on the head and we need to keep him awake until we can get him to the hospital."

"What's wrong with Willow?"

"Andrea? Right?"

The girl nodded.

"Nothin' you have to worry about. She ran into some bad mojo and the doc's gotta get her home before he can fix her up right." Faith hoped she sounded reassuring. "Robin's the one who needs an eye. Andrea? Think you could do that for me?"

"But…"

"Don't make me issue an order. I got a lotta crap to cover before B gets back. I can't watch Robin and help everyone get their shit straightened out. Capece?"

Andrea looked around. "What do I need to do?"

"Keep him awake. Make sure he don't wander off. We'll get him off your hands as soon as we can get wheels to the hospital."

"Why not just call an ambulance?" Tammi asked.

Faith held up a finger, "One, we might have more wounded, and if we start calling a whole buncha ambulances to this cemetery, someone might start asking real uncomfy questions. Two, if there are more wounded, we'll have to spin the right lie to explain why so many people are bleeding. If we only got Robin to worry about, we need to come up with a mugging story before we can get him help. Three, we need time to get everyone not wounded out of here because…"

"We're all a little hard to explain," Tammi finished for her as she waved a hand around. "Have I mentioned that this sucks?"

Faith grinned. "Welcome to the big leagues. Anyone know where Kennedy is hiding? What about Jee— I mean Giles?"

"They're both probably with one of the other groups," Jeanne answered. "We're kind of scattered."

"Right. Someone needs to find both of them. Grab Giles and drag him back here so I can give him the lowdown. If Kennedy ain't tied up in a fight, get her here, too. I'd think she'd want to be with her girlfriend," Faith said.

While Jeanne took off and Andrea headed for Robin, Faith tiredly rubbed her face. B had no business charging belowground like she did. If anything that was her job. She should've just dumped the wounded and turned right back around to go help Catherine and Xander. The last thing she wanted to do was play drill sergeant and get everyone organized so the group could clear out of the cemetery without attracting the wrong kind of attention.

Faith took a deep breath in an effort to clear her head and said, "Right. You, you, and you. Know where everyone is? Good. Go get 'em and bring 'em here. And each of you should grab a partner just in case anyone is still fighting what-the-hell-ever it is you guys were fighting so you can lend a hand. You and you, make sure we've got all our weapons, even the broken ones. Last thing we need is someone tripping over a sword or an axe tomorrow morning. Once everyone's here, we do a headcount and find out if anyone else needs to chat with Charlie or head to the hospital with Robin."

* * *

"Finished," J'Nal announced as he wearily stepped back.

"Well, I definitely don't want to go near that thing. Then again, I saw what it did to Willow, so I'm not too sure if that's a good test," Dawn said.

"Any ideas?" Catherine asked.

Dawn grinned, stuck two fingers in her mouth, and let out a piercing whistle. "Andrew? Can you come over here? I need your help."

Andrew jogged over with a pleased grin on his face. "As my lady so orders, I will hack and slash…"

"No hacking and slashing required. I just need you to read something," Dawn interrupted with an eye roll.

"I was, of course, talking metaphorically." Andrew's hands waved in bird-nervous movements. "I've been talking with Ruda…"

Catherine groaned.

"Well, more like I've been bouncing ideas off her because, y'know, Ruda's bound by the Temporal Prime Directive and can't actually offer advice about…"

"I really wish someone would explain this 'temporal prime directive' to me," Tikri complained. "For a civilization that doesn't even have interstellar travel, I really don't see how anyone came up with a rule with that kind of title."

Andrew puffed up his chest. "Well the Great Bird of the Galaxy…"

"Andrew," Dawn warned.

"Great Bird of the Galaxy?" Tikri asked. She nudged Catherine, "Do you remember anything from ancient mythology about a…"

"Nudge me again like that and I'll remove your hand at the elbow," Catherine growled.

Tikri raised both hands in the air. "Touchy."

"Definitely grouchy," J'Nal agreed.

"I'll, unh, explain later then," Andrew said. "So, like, what do you need me to translate?"

Dawn indicated the Grail's pedestal with a wave of her hand. "It's on the other side and I can't read it, which means it's probably demonic. If you could…"

"But of course! Happy to serve the empire!"

"Whatever." Dawn gave him a painful smile. "Ummm, could you hurry? We're on a schedule."

"Right." Andrew walked past her, but the closer he got to J'Nal, the more his steps slowed. He was still out of arms' reach of the Grail when he stopped and began looking around the cavern. "Uuuunnnhhhhh, is it me, or do you have a feeling something's watching us?"

"Why, no," Catherine brightly replied. "But we'll keep an eye out, so don't worry. We really need the message translated."

"Unh-hunh," Andrew said absently. His head jerked around so that he was looking in another direction. "There's definitely something watching us. I think…"

"Andrew, there's nothing there," Dawn assured him.

Andrew began to slowly back away from the Grail's location. "My spider-sense tells me that there's a definite very bad thing around. Maybe I should get Ruda."

"Very impressive," Tikri said.

"Look, I'm not making it up!" Andrew shouted as he spun around, ran a few steps, and then tripped over his own feet, landing on the ground with a thud.

"Andrew, are you okay?" Dawn asked.

Andrew sputtered and sneezed. "Just some gravel up my…" He paused. "Hunh. The feeling we're being watched is presto-chango-gone-o."

Dawn winced and held out a hand to him. "Sorry about that. We had to test the repel spell and since I watched J'Nal do it I wasn't a really good candidate."

Andrew blinked at her with hurt, watery eyes. The look was quickly replaced with gormless good cheer. "Oh, of course! No point in doing a Jedi mind trick unless you know it works."

"And how," Catherine agreed. "Put it on a little heavy, didn't you?"

"Better too heavy than too light," J'Nal sniffed.

"There wasn't a message, was there?" Andrew asked

"I really am sorry, Andrew," Dawn said as she helped him to his feet. "If there was anyone else, you know I would've used them."

"It's okay," Andrew patted her arm. "Glad I could help."

"Well, now that we know, we have to get going," Catherine ordered. "Let's everyone stick together. The sooner we reach the surface, the better I'll feel."

As everyone began making their way to the cavern exit, Catherine paused and touched J'Nal on the arm. When the witch turned to look at her, Catherine asked, "How are you holding up?"

"Tired," J'Nal responded with a wan smile. "You're right. I may have overdone it and put more energy into the spell than was strictly necessary."

"Can't blame you." Catherine shivered. "Will you be able to work with Charlie?"

"As long as I hold off casting any spells until we get back to the household, I'm sure it won't be a problem," J'Nal nodded. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's taking longer for me to recharge after spell casting than I like. I'm not used to working with the energy on this planet."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think even the natives sometimes have a problem dealing with the energy on this planet," Catherine chuckled as she took the Grail and turned to follow Dawn, Andrew and Tikri.

* * *

Xander clambered over the rocky, uneven surface. He was scurrying as fast as he dared, but he had the sinking feeling that it wasn't fast enough. Their scaly friend was lightening fast despite its size. Besides, it managed to wriggle its way out of one trap, what's to say that it didn't have some massive monster mojo that allowed it to get out of tight spaces?

He tripped for what felt like the millionth time and let out a yelp as his knee came in contact with a hard, jagged surface.

Jesus, how long had he been running?

He rubbed his knee with a wince, grateful that he didn't pitch headfirst into the ground. If he landed just right and cracked his head....

Stop thinking about it.

He turned and looked behind him, wondering how far he'd gotten into the tunnel. He could still hear echoes of the fighting, so he couldn't have gotten far.

Hunh. I don't even see the cave entrance.

Oh, shit.

Vi wouldn't.

Would she?

That pinball smile...

Shit. She most definitely would.

He felt that familiar sense of rising panic that he got when things were about to go spectacularly wrong, or even more wrong in this particular case. Vi was going to take on that monster alone and he was willing to bet good money that she didn't have to try that hard to talk the other three into going along with it.

"Goddamn it!" He growled as he turned around to head back the way he came. "What is it? Is thinking they can kill any scaly ugly a macho Slayer thing? Jesus! That snake is going to eat them alive!"__

He tripped and tumbled in his haste, doing his best to ignore the bumps and bruises along the way. He had to get there before...

"YAOW!"

He pitched forward, feeling his ankle twist and a sharp pain shooting up his left leg. Out of reflex he brought up his arms fast enough that his forearms absorbed the jarring impact, but not enough to spare him from feeling the bulk of the (thankfully) unloaded crossbow jabbing into his side. When he landed, his teeth sharply clicked together as the nearly empty quiver of bolts slammed into his back.

As he lay stunned on the ground and trying to draw breath for a few minutes, his brain registered little more than "ow." When he finally attempted to haul himself upright he realized that his situation had rocketed from I-am-a-clumsy-idiot all the way up to I-am-so-very-screwed.

His foot had managed to get wedged in between the rocks. It didn't help that he was trapped in a face-down position, so if he wanted to free himself he'd have to do it by touch since no one thought to give him eyes in the back of his head to replace the eye he lost in front of it. He might—just might—be able to get into a kneeling position and then do a little contortion number that would probably involve bending over backwards, adding four inches to his arms, and developing a third joint in his fingers.

Suuuuuure. This'll be eaaaaasy.

"Well," he muttered, "looks like I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

TBC…


	59. A Good Idea This Isn’t

****

Part 59: A Good Idea This Isn't

"Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap."

The sounds of fighting echoed and bounced off the cavern walls, encircling one very muddy, tired, and annoyed Slayer.

Buffy glared at some of the smaller tunnels branching off from her current path. She was pretty sure she remembered Willow saying that the largest cave was the main one and would take her to the grail's location. The problem was that Dawn and Xander could be anywhere down here.

Okay. Think. What do I actually know? Buffy winced. Maybe stopping to ask Faith a couple of questions before she took off might've been the smart thing to do in this situation.

What she knew was that Dawn was with Catherine and that they had found the grail, but there was some sort of problem. Xander was actually involved with a fight and working with four of the Slayers. _So, assuming Dawn didn't get mixed up with whatever it is Xander and the others are fighting, she could already be on her way to the surface._

That left one option: find the fight and she'd at least find Xander.

Buffy concentrated on the echoes to see if she could guess which of the branches might take her to the battle. She thought she had it narrowed down to two options: straight ahead to the grail or a tunnel to her left.

"Eeny-meeny-miney-mo, catch a monster by its toe, if it hollers stake it good, eeny-meeny-miney-mo, the one I choose is you." Buffy grimaced as her pointed finger landed on the tunnel to her left. She could tell that it was going to be rough going over the rocks. From this angle, she just couldn't see how there might be an epic battle going on between a monster, four Slayers, and Xander in that direction.

The again, maybe the tunnel was a short cut?

Yeah! I bet that's it! _HAH! Slayer hearing strikes again. Can't fool me!_

Feeling much more confident about her decision, Buffy hauled herself over the rocks partially blocking the entrance. It wasn't until she managed to stand upright and begin the arduous task of going forward that it hit her: she was completely unarmed.

* * *

Catherine very quickly figured out the little drawback to J'Nal's spell: Andrew and Dawn couldn't get anywhere near her without getting an attack of the screaming paranoias.

Taking off her coat and wrapping it around the Grail helped only a little bit, but given that they'd just spent the past five standard minutes trying to organize themselves enough to leave through the narrow tunnel, she was willing to accept "a little bit."

Catherine was forced to hang back while Ruda accompanied Dawn and Andrew down the tunnel.

"Perhaps I should take it," J'Nal offered apologetically, "I might be able to take the edge off the spell until we get back to their household."

"Would you have to exert your magical abilities to do it?" Catherine asked.

"Yes."

"Then the answer is no. I keep it."

"Besides, I know I'd feel better if your hands were free," Tikri said nervously. When J'Nal and Catherine finally spared her a glance, she added, "In case someone needs to cast a spell to get us out of trouble."

"She's got a point there," Catherine grudgingly allowed.

J'Nal and Tikri entered the tunnel, leaving Catherine to take up the rear. She hunched over her precious burden as she clutched the cloth-covered Grail to her chest. The sounds of fighting were still going strong, which meant they'd probably have to fight their way out. Terrific. Fighting while holding on to the Grail was not going to be easy. How something as simple as bringing along a knapsack to carry the Grail slipped everyone's mind was anyone's guess.

When she stepped out of the tunnel and into the fight arena, the reaction to her arrival underscored just how much of a problem J'Nal's spell was.

A Slayer to her immediate left whipped around to face her with a snarl before turning white, dropping her sword, and crabbing away from the Watcher Honoria as quickly as possible. The escaping Slayer nearly ran over her teammate in the process.

Violet, who was nearby engaging a monstrously large snake, became distracted. "What just…" Violet began as she turned to look at Catherine. Her question was cut off when the snake took the opportunity to strike by trying to swallow the girl whole.

Violet let out a bloodcurdling holler as she jumped back fast enough to prevent herself from becoming a snack. The snake's fangs still managed to catch her sword arm, leaving behind a bloody trail that ran from shoulder to wrist. Needless to say, Violet lost her weapon in the process.

Catherine desperately scanned the open ground, trying to find a spot that was absent of present-day people. Although there were plenty of those, getting to them was going to be another matter entirely. Furthermore, even if she could get clear of people who'd be affected by J'Nal's spell, she was still in the middle of a fight, which meant sooner or later someone was going to get close enough to her to cause problems.

"Xander!" Dawn was screaming at the top of her lungs. "Where's Xander?"

Catherine's eyes widened as she desperately searched the area around her. "Alexander! Alexander where are you? Alexander!"

The other three Slayers, seeing that their companion was wounded, charged the snake to drive it away from Violet. With a distinctive war cry, Ruda joined the fray. Catherine's Slayer struck with smooth precision as her weapons flashed through the darkness. The other Slayers were clumsy by comparison only because they were still learning; a point that was driven home by the sheer terrible beauty of a Ruda loosed on an enemy she could hurt.

Catherine jittered with indecision. Instinct and training told her to help Violet get out of harm's way and then to join the fight. Reality told her that the last thing she should do is let go of the Grail. Through the chaos, she saw J'Nal raise his hands in a threatening manner.

"J'Nal! Wait!" Catherine screamed.

The Prima witch froze.

"Get Dawn and Andrew to safety!" Catherine shouted. "Do not use magic unless you absolutely have to!"

J'Nal nodded.

Catherine trusted her prima witch to know that he wouldn't cast spells unless someone was threatened with immanent death.

"But Xander!" Dawn yelped while that weasel Andrew cowered behind her.

"I'll find him!" Catherine yelled back over the din.

In the meantime, Violet managed to clear the fight, landing close enough to Catherine that the Watcher Honoria wondered why the Slayer hadn't gone fetal on the ground.

"If you're worried, Xander's playing bait," Violet explained.

"Bait?" Catherine asked. She was treated to the odd sight of Violet moving toward her at a snail's pace. The girl looked like she was fighting every instinct to run like hada. _Founders, she is a brave one,_ Catherine thought.

"Yeah," the closer Violet got, the more she began to shake, "the plan was for the snake to chase him and get trapped in one of the tunnels so we could kill it without getting eaten."

Catherine could only watch in sick fascination as Violet inched forward. The Slayer was trembling so hard that she looked like she had the shimmy-shakes. "Maybe you should stay there," Catherine said.

Violet nodded, but took that one step closer.

"I'm going to make a wild guess," Catherine said loud enough to be heard over the noise of battle, "someone decided to change the plan."

"If the snake catches him he'll be killed," Violet protested.

"As opposed to four Slayers being killed?" Catherine snarled back. "Let's get one thing clear: Watchers are expendable. Slayers are **not**."

"But…" Violet protested.

"Don't you get it? He was doing his **job** when he attempted to lure your enemy to a place where you could more easily kill it." Catherine glared at Violet. She whirled around and faced the battle scene. Things were not going well. The snake still seemed to have the upper hand, despite its wounds. The girls were clearly tired. Ruda's attempt to help was for naught.

Catherine looked down at the cloth bundle in her arms. She had just the ticket to cow that snake right into submission.

She unwrapped the Grail, dropped her coat on the ground, and charged forward. She held the Grail out in front of her like a cross. The snake saw her and froze.

ROWL?  
(What the…)

Catherine stood pat and held the Grail above her head. If this snake was from this time, it should fall apart like the present-day Slayers.

HISSSSSSS!  
(My shiny thing! What are you doing with my shiny thing?)

The snake feinted in confusion, forcing Catherine to retreat. _The hada! It should've retreated by now!_

GROOOWLLLL!  
(That's **mine**!)

Either the snake was immune to magic, or it wasn't from this time. _Right. Change of plans._ Catherine shook the Grail at the snake and bolted for one of the tunnels, screaming as she ran, "Get everyone out of here **now**!"

"Wait!" one of the Slayers shouted.

RRROOOWWLLLL! GRUUUUUL!  
(Get back here with my shiny thing! Stop! Thief!)

"That's an order!" Catherine shot back as she disappeared down a tunnel.

The snake was busy untangling itself in preparation to go after Catherine.

Lisa ran over to Vi's side and began pulling the struggling Slayer away.

"We have to stop her!" Vi shouted as she saw the snake begin to slither after the Watcher Honoria.

"You're wounded. We have to get Dawn and Andrew out of here," Lisa said firmly. "We'll come back after we get you and the others to the staircase."

"But don't you see?" Vi argued. "She went down the same tunnel Xander did."

"Then you better stop fighting me and start running for that staircase," Lisa grimly replied. "Because we're going to need all the help we can get."

* * *

"Fan-fucking-tastic, Xander Harris. How do you do this to yourself? Geee, Howard. It's simple. I'm an idiot."

Xander had placed the crossbow within easy reach and managed to shed the quiver. Throwing axe was likewise discarded, also within easy reach. Sweat poured off his forehead in rivers as he fought to remain balanced on his knees despite the uneven ground. The tips of his fingers were sore from scrabbling against the rocks holding his left foot captive and his back ached from hyper-extending backwards to reach those rocks.

And dare he mention the pain? Because right now it was pain-a-palooza. He wasn't a hundred percent sure, but his ankle and his leg hurt so much he was willing to bet that he broke something.

"See, the thing is, Howard," Xander grunted as he stubbornly attempted to arch his back and reach for the rocks holding him fast, "someone in our happy little group needs to be the damsel in distress. As it so happens, I **am **that damsel. Why, Xander Harris, don't you resent your constant need to be rescued? Sometimes Howard, sometimes. It just would be nice if I could switch off with the others, you know? Maybe one week Willow needs to be saved, the next week Buffy. While we're at it, let's throw Dawn and Giles on the rotation. But I'm not bitter. Noooooooo. Well, maybe a little bitter. Know what would make me less bitter? If the woman saving me would help me up onto her white horse and carry me away to a place where we could live happily ever after with lots and lots of orgasms."

He stopped his rant. Closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Yeah," he added quietly, "so much for **that **plan, right Anya?"

Talking, even talking to himself, was definitely of the bad. He should stop it right now.

One more mighty effort only resulted in more sweating and heavy panting. He stopped stretching, an action that had the spring-back effect of pitching him forward. His reflexes were fast enough that his hands stopped his face from mashing into the ground.

"Now what?" he asked.

Rhetorical question got him an echoing growl.  
(Ooooh, no. Not falling for that trap again.)

Xander shook his head in irritation. The four girls were probably holding the line, but how long before one of them got killed?

He looked up at the cavern ceiling and said, "I could use some serious ass-saving right about now. So if you could just hurry up?"

Right on cue, Catherine burst around the bend like several hellhounds were hot on her heels. Xander yelled as Catherine nearly trampled him and then cowered as an overwhelming sense of fear overpowered him.

"Alexander!" Catherine shouted happily. "You're all right."

About all he could do was try to curl into a ball and cover his head with hands. _Magic, magic, magic, magic, magic, _something inside him sang a warning. _Hurts, hurts, hurts_._ Makeitgoaway._

"Oh. Sorry. The Grail."

Somewhere in his overwhelming panic he could hear Catherine retreat. His blind fear eased to a simple feeling of niggling worry and he peered up.

"J'Nal cast a spell on the Grail to keep people away," Catherine said apologetically as she put the Grail down on a nearby rock. "He, unh, went a little overboard."

"Oh, wait. Let me guess," Xander struggled to get to his knees, "he whammied the grail so we'd all turn into a quivering mess if we got close? How not smart, considering, oh, we were in the middle of fighting a huuuuuge snake."

Another growl prompted Catherine to look over her shoulder.  
(I think I'll try this way. Cut you off at the pass.)

"I don't think it's following me," she said absently.

Xander glared. "Let me get this straight: **you **decided to play bait? Are you out of your mind?"

"Hey! Look who's talking!" Catherine began her protest, a protest that was cut short by Buffy's entrance, which featured a yell and a pratfall that would make Jim Carey proud.

Good thing Xander provided her with a nice, safe, soft landing spot.

Xander yelped and again was forced to catch himself with his forearms before he pitched headfirst into the rocky floor. This resulted in a stream of invectives as his already battered body parts became more battered.

"Hey!" Buffy swatted playfully at him. "Is that any way to treat the girl who's here to help?"

"You know, any more help and I'll be dead," Xander complained. "Get off!"

Buffy rolled to her feet with a giggle. It quickly died down when she got her bearings. "Where is everyone? And does anyone else feel like something's watching us?"

"Xander tried to draw off the snake," Catherine quickly cut in.

"I'm telling you," Buffy looked around, "I'm a little uneasy."

"I tripped and fell and got stuck," Xander interrupted. "My foot's wedged."

"You're stuck?" Catherine asked as she moved to kneel next to Xander. "Why didn't you didn't say anything?"

"Could be because someone tripped over me with a grail enchanted to cause people to turn into piles of scaredy-cat goo," Xander said.

"Good thing I'm immune, hunh?" Buffy asked as her eyes scanned the cavern. "You know? I think we should be going, as in right now."

"Immune, hunh?" Xander shot Catherine a glare.

Buffy grimaced. "I'm guessing not so much." She took a deep breath. "Okay, where's everyone else?"

"Dawn, Andrew, Tikri, and the four Slayers are being evacuated under J'Nal's protection as we speak," Catherine said. "My guess is that they'll bring back help."

"No! Bad idea!" Buffy said. "They'll get lost if they come down here."

"Buffy's right," Xander agreed. "Bonus, I think you should get out of here, too."

"We're not leaving you," Catherine said.

"You heard her," Buffy said with crossed arms.

"Fine! Buffy can save me, but you have got to go!" Xander shouted in frustration. "We've fought too damn hard to get that stupid grail…"

"No!" Catherine said in the voice of someone who was not used to being contradicted. "I'll just help…"

"You are **not **going to help. You are going to get your ass and **go**." When Catherine opened her mouth, Xander exploded, "For Christ's sake, we **don't **have time to argue. You got the grail, so Move. Your. Ass."

"I don't leave my people behind," she said flatly.

"Hey! I'm going to be here!" Buffy protested. "No one's getting left behind."

"That's not the point," Catherine said.

Xander's arm quickly snaked out and he grabbed Catherine by her collar, pulling her down so they were face-to-face. "Let's get one thing straight. I am issuing you a fucking executive order to run like hell. You don't have a choice because technically speaking I'm your fucking **boss.** Got me?"

A pair of furious brown eyes glared down into an equally furious living brown eye and a matching glass one.

To Xander's amazement, Catherine broke first. She closed her eyes. "Yes, Harris-rah."

"Go."

She gave a curt nod and scurried to scoop up the Grail.

"Better go out the way I came in," Buffy said. "I think it's a short cut."

"Better take my crossbow while you're at it," Xander added.

"Oh, but leave your sword, pretty please?" Buffy asked. "I've got nothing on me."

Catherine nodded unhappily as she took off the sword and scabbard slung crosswise across her back and placed it on the ground. She took a deep breath and charged past the pair, stopping just long enough to grab the crossbow and quiver.

As she passed, a feeling of dread paralyzed Buffy and Xander. The feeling only began to fade when Catherine began clambering over the rocks behind them.

A low growl echoed through the caverns.  
(Well, well, well. What's this I smell? Walnut Brain?)

Buffy grabbed the scabbard and slung it over one shoulder. She returned, dropped to her knees, and began worrying at the rocks holding Xander fast. He could hear her fighting to keep her breathing under control while she worked.

"Great, just great. Way to go all noble there, stupid," Xander snarled to as he peered into the darkness in front of him. "I hope it bites our heads off, because then I know we'll be able to keep on living since we don't actually have brains."

"Ummmm, can you hold off on that hope? Because I really, really don't feel like carrying my own head under my arm," Buffy said with a grunt. There was a sound of a clattering rock and just like that, Xander was free.

"Can you stand?" Buffy asked.

Xander slowly got to his knees before forcing himself to stand on his right foot. Using Buffy like a makeshift crutch, he slowly put more weight on his throbbing left leg. The results were less than impressive. "Yeah. Ouch. Oo. Oo," he groaned through clenched teeth.

SNARL  
(You and me, Walnut Brain. Then I get my shiny thing back.)

"Broken?" Buffy asked.

Xander was again standing on his right foot, keeping his left leg bent and his left foot elevated. "I-I-I don't think so. Hurts like hell, though."

Buffy looked worriedly around. "Can you move?"

GRrRrRrRrRrR.  
(I think I'll try this way instead.)

"Do I have a choice?" Xander asked. "Where do we end up if we follow Catherine?"

"It dumps us back into the main tunnel."

"Let's go that way then."

"You sure?" Buffy asked doubtfully. "I mean, it's really rough doing and I don't know if you'll be able to make it."

"I'll make it because I have to," Xander said grimly.

TBC…


	60. Today is a Better Day To…

****

Part 60: Today is a Better Day To…

Xander gamely tumbled over the rocks as he leaned on Buffy for support. The trek wasn't noiseless by any means. Xander's symphony of sharp intakes of breath, growls, and soft swearing leavened with the occasional whimper made Buffy nervous. She could only hope the monster's hearing wasn't sensitive enough to pick up the noise Xander was making.

They finally broke into the main tunnel, an act that was capped by Xander stumbling with a yelp as he transitioned to the relatively smooth sailing the main tunnel offered. Buffy managed to catch him before he landed face-first on the ground.

"Thanks," he said through clenched teeth.

Buffy stood still and let Xander straighten up so he could at least sling an arm around her shoulders. Out of reflex, she grabbed his dangling hand and wrapped her free arm around his waist.

"You ready to run?" she asked, not liking the fact that he was pale and sweating.

"Make it a hobble and you've got a deal."

They set off for the staircase. Buffy could hear sounds of movement echoing somewhere through the tunnels, but she was having a hard time pegging the source. The fact that whatever was hunting them was smart enough to not make any other noises that might give away its position did not make the Slayer feel at all comfortable.

Although they were moving faster than they had been in the small side tunnel, Buffy felt they were still moving too slow. While Xander awkwardly leaned on her for support as he limped along, she had to fight the urge to impatiently surge forward and drag him with her. If Xander were shorter, Buffy would've just thrown him over her shoulders and hauled ass out of there just to be done with the escaping routine.

"How's the ankle?" she whispered.

"Hard to tell," Xander grunted back.

There was a sharp clatter of rocks ahead. Xander reflexively hugged her closer, forcing Buffy to come to halt.

"What?" she asked.

"Wait," he grimly replied.

After a few moments of their headlamps scanning the darkness and finding nothing, coupled with no more scary rock-moving noises, Xander relaxed enough to allow Buffy to move forward.

They had walked-hobbled only a few feet more when a loud roar echoed through the tunnel followed by an explosion of rock and dust that drove them both to the ground. Buffy scrambled to her feet and saw the second-biggest snake head she'd ever seen in her life.

The snake did some sort of coil-y thing so that its eyes could fix on her. One sibilant hiss was all the impetuous she needed to grab Xander by the collar of his shirt and start dragging him away.

ROAR!  
(Goody! You brought a friend!)

Xander yelped and managed to pick up adrenalin-fueled speed despite his injured ankle. Although there was no way he could possibly keep up with a Slayer, even if that Slayer was weighted down by one Xander-sized package, he managed to avoid being strangled by his own clothing while Buffy dragged him along.

Knowing there was no way the two of them together were going to outrun a snake even in these close quarters, Buffy took a sharp right down a branching tunnel.

"Let go!" Xander managed get out as Buffy pulled him after her.

"No!"

"Just take off and I'll distract…"

"Shut up!" Buffy shouted back as she ducked down yet another side passage to her left, dragging the loudly protesting Xander along with her. Behind her she could hear the snake rumbling through the passage as loose rocks clattered a warning of its advance. She tossed Xander in front of her so that she'd be able to turn and face the snake if it caught up with them. She must've yanked too hard because she heard the sound of cloth ripping and Xander was freely stumbling forward.

He brought his arms up over his head and yelled, "Oh, shi—" He crashed into a barrier and crumpled to the ground.

"Oh no," Buffy said as she raced to his side. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw he was stunned, but conscious. His headlamp was cracked, but at least still working. "Are you…"

"Ow. My arms haven't had enough abuse today." Xander blinked rapidly as if he was trying to clear his head. "Next time you throw me, can you please make sure there isn't a rock wall in the way?"

"Well excuse me for trying to keep you alive."

GROWWWWL.  
(Hide and seek. I liiiiike this game.)

Xander slapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her to the ground. Buffy shot him a glare, but gave him a curt nod. She suspected that this quiet-as-a-mouse routine wasn't going to be at all helpful, but it was worth a shot. He removed his hand from her mouth and reached up to fumble with his headlamp until his light snapped off. She quickly followed suit.

Xander remained on his back keeping as still as possible. Buffy slowly worked her way into a crouching position, ignoring Xander's irritated huff telling her that she was making noise. Given the fact that the snake—_it must be huuuuuge if its body matches its head_—was making plenty of noise as it navigated the corridors, she figured it probably couldn't hear her.

An echoing growl startled both of them.  
(I can smell you, you know.)

Buffy quietly unslung Catherine's sword and put it on the ground. She kept one hand on the hilt and the other on the scabbard. As the sounds of movement got closer, she knew that all she managed to do was trap both her and Xander in a neat little box. If they were going down, she was going to make damn sure that snake was going down with them.

Ruuuuuuuuuur.  
(First I eat. Then shiny thing.)

The sound of movement stopped. Buffy held her breath, hoping that the snake lost them. _I hope it worked I hope it worked I hope it worked…_

With a suddenness the defied belief, the snake's head thrust into their hidey hole.

ROOOOAAAARRRRR!  
(I win Walnut Brain!)

Buffy launched from her position with a scream, drawing the sword as she went.

"Buffy!" Xander shouted.

The snake's jaws opened wide just as Buffy got into swinging distance. Given her speed, there was no way to avoid getting bit, so Buffy charged straight into the snake's mouth.

"BUFFY! NO!"

Using every ounce of Slayer strength at her disposal, Buffy grasped the hilt in both hands and struck upward, driving the sword at an angle, which miraculously prevented the snake from closing its jaws. There was a roaring sound in her ears accompanied by the sharp sounds of something breaking. When she withdrew the sword, there was a surprising amount of blood that gushed from the wound. Around her she could feel the snake trying to work its jaws, which left her with only one option: keep stabbing at roughly the same angle.

She was blinded by the flood of blood and deafened by the noise. She wasn't sure how long she stabbed at the roof of the snake's mouth and how long she fought to keep her balance as the soft footing beneath her violently undulated in agony. At some point, she felt her collar go tight and she wondered if she got caught on the snake's fangs. If that was the case, she was in trouble for sure.

She was shocked when she realized that she was actually getting dragged past the monstrously large fangs, a point driven home by the fact that a sharp point had nicked her cheek, and backwards into the relatively open air of cul-de-sac. She stumbled, still off balance and still disoriented by her sudden change in environment. Unable to re-capture he equilibrium, she was dragged to the ground as her rescuer tripped with a very male curse.

The snake was convulsing and screaming, causing loose rocks to scatter and clatter around them. Buffy and Xander scrambled as quickly as they could away from the dying creature before landing hard up against the opposite rock wall. They crouched on the ground in an effort to make themselves smaller targets for the snake's unthinking death throes. For good measure, Xander yanked the half-stunned Buffy into a hug, curling around her in an effort to shield her from the dust and debris kicked up by the battle's aftermath.

Buffy wasn't sure how long the dying drama lasted as she and Xander cringed together on that cavern floor. All she knew was that eventually the snake stilled, the rocks stopped rumbling in a threatening manner, and even the echoes faded away.

There was a cool rush of air across her cheek as Xander lifted his head. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Buffy whispered back.

"Got your headlamp?"

Buffy bit back a sarcastic retort and gingerly touched her head, wincing at the tacky clumps that now passed as her hair. "Gonzo. I bet it's in the snake's stomach right now."

Xander stifled a chuckle. "Wanna go get it?"

"Not for all the coffee in a Starbuck's. You?"

"Not for all the Krispy Kremes on the planet."

"Please tell me you have yours."

Xander sat up. Buffy could just barely make out Xander's blind expression in the overwhelming dark.

"It's around here somewhere. I took it off before…you know. Ummm, I don't suppose superior Slayer-y eyesight could find it?"

"Where'd you put it?"

"Somewhere along this wall, but that's about all I can tell you."

"Right." Buffy began feeling along the wall to her left while she sensed Xander trying to do the same as he moved to his right. She maybe crawled a foot when her hand came in contact with something metallic.

"Got it!" she sang out. She fumbled a bit before finding the switch and snapping it on. She shined the light around her, picking out Xander in the darkness.

A hand flew up to shield his face as he protested, "Hey!"

Buffy swallowed hard and pointed the beam away. "You look like an extra from a horror movie."

"Do I look like _Carrie _post pig-blood bath?" Xander asked.

Buffy considered him a moment. His face and hair was dark with blood, which caused his eyes—one fake and one real—to stand out in startling relief. If anything, he looked like he took a swim in a pool of blood with his clothes still on.

"Worse," she finally replied.

"Terrific. I rank as an extra in _Texas Chainsaw Massacre._ No offense, but you don't look much better."

God knows her clothes felt sodden and tacky and her skin felt itchy and sticky. She really didn't need confirmation. "C'mon, let's see if there's a way out."

"Keep the light," Xander said as he painfully crawled to his feet. "I'm betting you're going to be moving around more than I will."

"Actually, that's a good idea." Buffy marched over to him and firmly guided him to small outcropping that was just high enough for him to sit, but low enough that he could just get on his feet if he needed to. "Off the ankle. I'm betting it's hurting."

"The pain is singing in an aria-like way, yeah," Xander agreed wearily. "Remind me that I'm not a Slayer and I shouldn't act like one as in ever."

Buffy gave him a friendly tap on the arm as he sat with a wince. "I'll let it slide this time, but one more move like that buster and I'm telling Willow. And you know what that means."

"She'll make me drink her scary herbal tea?" Xander deadpanned. "No. Anything but that. I beg you to be merciful." He took a deep breath and asked, "Did you see her?"

"Willow? Yeah. Faith mentioned that something happened." Buffy kicked at the gravel under her feet. "She had the black eyes, Xander. How bad?"

Xander looked away. "Bad enough."

The tone in his voice made it pretty clear she wouldn't get more information from him. She turned and wearily inspected the snake-blocked entrance. Her sword, like her light, was somewhere in that mess, so hacking and slashing their way out was not an option. That left inspecting the shadowed rock walls in hopes of finding a crawl space that would get them to a neighboring, snake-free tunnel.

"A splinter." Xander's voice echoed.

"Hunh?"

"It can only be killed by one of the splinters lodging in the roof of its mouth," Xander said dully.

"I don't follow."

She could see Xander staring at the snake. He looked like all his hopes had been shattered.

"You stabbed it in the roof of its mouth, didn't you?" he asked.

"Unh, yeah."

"Yeah," Xander said quietly. He looked back at her and offered her a weak smile. "Then again, I didn't exactly mention Robin and Willow getting hurt, so maybe it's not what I think, right?"

Maybe she was just too exhausted, but Buffy couldn't quite grasp what Xander was trying to say. "I'm not…"

"What I'm saying is that it's still possible that the future isn't the future." He shook his head. "Forget it. I'm just babbling."

Ahhhh, the joy of post-battle, Buffy thought as she began exploring the promising shadows and dips in the rock walls of their prison Usually she was cranked after a good fight, but this was a night of getting battered so what she really wanted to do crawl into a hot bath and soak. Although there was a good chance that a rescue party was coming, god knows how long it would take for the others to find them.

Buffy snorted. _Yeah, because I have to be the big hero, right? Gotta not only kill the snake, but I have to prove I don't need anyone else. Talk about missing the point of sharing the power, which is sad on this epic scale since it was my freakin' idea._

Buffy-thoughts, bad. Rock search, better.

Quiet Xander, on the other hand? Just wiggy. _Shouldn't he be saying something annoying right about now? Quippage? _He wasn't saying a peep. Without looking over her shoulder, she just knew Xander was staring at the dead snake and thinking…what? She had no idea.

Then again, she very rarely had any idea what Xander was thinking.

"Do you know what today is?" Buffy blurted out.

"I'd say Labor Day, except I think that was a couple of weeks ago."

"You think?" Buffy asked incredulously as she turned around to look at him.

He hesitated a moment, his eyebrows drawing tight. "Sorry. I'm stupid when it comes to dates since Sunnydale and Anya…I mean, I kind of register when the Andrew turns the calendar page, but I don't want to think about it."

"Four months ago to the day Sunnydale died with…" she couldn't quite bring herself to say that Spike was dead, mostly because on some gut level she didn't believe it. Or maybe she just didn't want to believe it. It seemed that even in dusty death Spike left her as conflicted as he did when he was undusty and undead.

Xander's face clouded over with guilt and he looked away. "Says a lot about me, doesn't it? Just call me Harris-Ass-Hole. Jesus." He scrubbed his hands through his hair, which caused it to stick up in tufts. He bowed his head as he added in a whisper, "It slipped my mind. I lost track and…scratch that, I didn't want to know."

"Sorry." Buffy wasn't exactly sure what she was apologizing for.

He opened his eyes and Buffy could see he wasn't trapped in a cave with a dead giant demonic-like snake at one end and a rock wall at the other. "Guess we know who won the who loves their dead ex most contest. Surprise, surprise, it wasn't me."

"Hey!" Buffy strode over to him and grabbed his upper arm with a blood-covered hand. "Stop that! Everyone deals…well, I'm over-focus-y about that kind of thing and you're always avoid-y."

"I can remember the anniversary of what should've been my wedding and I can't even remember this?" He angrily asked as he stood. Correction, attempted to stand. He fell back against his perch with a very loud "Ow!"

"You were going to storm across the cave and hit the rock wall, weren't you?" Buffy asked. "Can I just point out how so good an idea that's not? The last thing you need is a broken hand to go with your sprained ankle."

"You're probably right." Xander seemed almost grateful to get off the subject of dead towns, dead Anyas, and especially the threat of discussing dead Spikes. He lifted his leg in the air and gingerly swiveled the foot as he hissed in pain. "It's actually getting better, believe it or not."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I think Charlie packed miracles in his medical thing-y, so yeah."

"About Anya, I mean."

Xander let his leg drop. "Buff? I love you. Really, I do. But I think your smartest move as a Slayer would be to tiptoe away from this subject as fast as Slayerly possible. You do **not **want to start poking at me with Mr. Pointy."

"I don't mean about the anniversary." Buffy kicked at granular soil. "I mean about everything."

Xander gritted his teeth as if he were biting back the first through tenth comments that went through his head before his shoulders slumped. "You're just not going to let it go, are you? Fine. Let's hear it. Whatever is on your mind. Open season. Sunnydale. Spike. Whatever. I'll sit here quietly and make the right sympathetic sounds since that's what you're looking for, right?"

Okay, that stung, she thought. She was really wearing a trench in the soil. Some part of her wondered if she could tunnel her way under the walls. She could run and get the others and then they could free Xander. Or maybe she could dig a trench big enough to get him out, too. She immediately rejected the thought since she didn't have a shovel.

"I envy you." The words popped out of her mouth.

Whatever he was expecting, he wasn't expecting that. He went from watching her out of the corner of his right eye to looking at her with a living one and a dead one. The fact that the left eye looked realish enough to show a flash of disbelief? Scary. Made her wonder about eyes being the window to the soul because if that was the case, at least part of Xander's soul was now synthetic.

"I mean, why **should **you remember the date? Why should you even **care **about it?" Buffy asked. "**You **have proof that you'll fall in love again."

Buffy saw Xander's nostrils flare with honest-to-god irritation. She knew Xander was capable of flash-fire anger, but usually that came out of nowhere and disappeared almost as quickly. She didn't recall the anger riding this close to the surface or him even trying to keep it in check.

Now that she thought about it, what with the clashes with Robin and the near-fight with Catherine, he'd been kind of like this since Sunnydale.

Oh boy. I think he thinks I'm accusing him of… "Look, it's not that I think you don't care about Anya or that you didn't love her or that you'll forget all about her," Buffy quickly explained. "But think about this, someday you'll…"

"Don't."

"But…"

"Buffy, so help me god, if you start channeling Celine Dion, I'm taking out a restraining order the second we get out of this mess."

The blonde giggled despite herself. "I'm trying to have a serious heart-to-heart about…"

"What a coincidence. I'm trying to **avoid **a serious heart-to-heart," Xander said absently. "Hey, trench digging girl, think you can keep with the mission of getting us out of here?"

"Sorry. Got distracted," Buffy admitted.

"Well?" Irritation back in full force.

"I'm not sure I'll find something big enough for me to squirm through, and even if I do, there's no guarantee you'll be able to get through it and I don't want to just leave you."

Xander looked to the heavens and muttered before saying, "How about this: if you find something big enough for you, feel free to pull a Lassie to my Timmy and bring the reinforcements back to rescue one Xansel in distress. Believe me, I'm not a proud man. I'm a man who wants to live. Specifically, I'm a man who wants to live out his remaining days where I won't be forced to smell eau de rotting giant snake."

She headed back to the wall to continue her search. "Why don't you want to talk to me?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Xander pinch the bridge of his nose in one of the scariest imitations of Giles that she'd ever seen. "Buffy, I will talk to you about anything you want, but right now Anya is a subject that is of the off."

"Well what about…"

"**OR **Catherine," Xander interrupted. "And no, for the last time, I do not read minds. I just know you well enough to know this is a Slayer-sneaky way to find out what I know about the future."

Buffy physically stuttered and whipped around to face him. "You mean there's **more**?"

"More what?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes and studied Xander's profile in the light of her headlamp. "What do you know?"

Irritation turned cautious. "Pretty much what you know."

Right. Sure.

Searching forgotten, she glided up to him. "You're in the know about the else that's the who in the picture," she guessed.

Xander's eyes narrowed. "Either I've been talking to people who speaka the English too well or I've been out of California too long for the good of my own brain, but hunh?"

Buffy stopped in front of him, arms crossed. "Who's your better half?"

"I have no idea what you're…"

"Yes you do. Your left eye's twitching."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is not."

"Is."

"You know, I'm thinking escaping is more important than talking about the fact my left eyelid is twitching because my glassy left is feeling very dry and I don't know where my eye drops are.

"Ah-HA!"

"Ah-ha? What's the ha about the ah all about?"

"I thought you said it wasn't twitching."

Xander dropped his head in his hands and let out a low, frustrated growl. "Can you please be Lassie-Buffy? Sometime this century? Before our friends declare us dead and start dividing our worldly possessions amongst themselves?"

"You can tell me. I can keep a secret."

Xander let his hands drop. "That you can."

Buffy kicked at the soil. "Yeah. It's a problem. I'd like to try to change it, especially if I want to…"

"It's not you if that's what you're worried about."

Buffy froze. "Oh." She wasn't sure what she thought of that or the tired sound in his voice.

"Don't tell anyone?"

Buffy settled on the rock next to him. "What bothers you more? The fact you get a life? Or the who that's in it?"

He was quiet a long time, long enough for Buffy to wonder if she'd get an answer. Finally he said, "Both. Equally, I think. Sometimes one bothers me more than the other. My bothered is bothered to give you an idea. If Giles and Dawn hadn't laid the whole 'you're needed' trip on me I wouldda been out of here the second Catherine the Great and crew leave. Maybe head back to Califon-e-i-a or check out Florida or Texas before winter hits."

Buffy felt her heart drop at that. "Are you leaving?"

Yet another long, thoughtful silence. "Probably not, but only because my reasons for leaving are slightly less good than my reasons for staying. The who that's the else is actually on my 'why I should head for Badlands and change my name' list."

Buffy sagged. "Don't tell me. Another demon or ex-demon, right?"

Xander looked at her in surprise.

"Xaaannn-derrrrr, Anya was totally one of a kind," Buffy said. "She was…well…okay I didn't always like her and, well, she could be weird, and, umm, I never did get her love affair with money, until I was dead broke I mean, plus the imagery she'd put in my ahead about you and her having…no, no, sooooo not going there…and the less said about me trying to kill her the better—and I never did quite make it right with you over that, but I did apologize to her, sort of, in case you didn't know—but she was **your **weird and **your **heart and I know you miss her and I'm sorry you're hurting and…"

She felt an arm go around her shoulder and her body pulled into a hug just as she realized she was bawling her stupid eyes out.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay," accompanied by a kiss on the top of the head followed by a cheek rested on the X that marks the spot. "Yeah, it's a bad day all around isn't it? We've not only got a dead snake, we've got ghosts. Not a good combination."

"I'm not crying for me," Buffy weakly protested.

"Yes you are, but that's okay. You can cry for both of us." In a softer voice he added, "I appreciate the attempt and what you're trying to say. Don't be afraid to talkto me, okay? Despite the fact…well…it's just that right now…right now…"

Buffy sniffed and swiped at her eyes, trying not to think about the fact that she was smearing snake guts all over her face. "A better place to do this would be sitting down in actual chairs and actually having a real talk instead of trapped in a cave where the only thing we can see by the light of our single light are the creep-o shadows on a dead giant snake?"

Xander removed arm and cheek and bent down to loosen the laces on his right boot to release the pressure on the swelling. "You read my mind."

His voice sounded a little too thick and Buffy knew damn well that it had nothing to do with the effort of fiddling with bootlaces. She rested her hand on the small of his back for a moment to try and somehow communicate that she understood, and went to back to the wall to continue her search.

Talk would happen later, once Catherine was gone and the house went back to its regularly scheduled insanity. Frankly, they both could use the chat if only to finally exorcise the shadow of Sunnydale from their friendship, now showing signs of life even if it was still on life support. It gave her a small hope that she could start repairing her relationship with Giles, Willow, and Dawn. After that? Well…best to focus on one step at a time.

She was just re-starting her search when she heard a shout of surprise echo through the tunnels.

"We're in here!" Xander shouted.

"Xander!" That voice definitely sounded like Faith's. "Where the fuck are you, Cyclops? Is B with you?"

"Yeah!" Buffy shouted. "We're a little on the trapped side."

There was a chorus of giggles accompanying Faith's voice. "Way to understate there, B. We can kind of squeeze around the snake—fuck me this thing is wicked huge—but we got ourselves a classic cork situation."

"Buffy's looking to see if there's a crack she can squeeze through," Xander shouted.

"Keep on that. Meanwhile, we're going to try and slice and dice our way to you," Faith said, this time to a chorus of 'ewwwwww.' "Hey, cut the squeamishness guys. At least it ain't trying to bite your ass while you do it. We got a hardcore deadline, got me?"

There was a girlish chorus of, "Yes, Faith," followed by metallic sounds.

"Yo! Cyclops! How you feelin' in there? Some of the girls have been buggin' my ass about you."

"Ankle sucks, but otherwise okay." He shot Buffy an amused look. "I have to warn you though, me and Buffy look very, very ugly, so be prepared."

Faith guffawed. "What? Like I don't see your ugly mugs every day? Gimme some new news sometime."

Xander and Buffy exchanged grins. If Faith was tossing out smart-ass funnies, things were going to be okay.

Someday I'm going to die, but thank god that today is not the day, Buffy thought as she once again began inspecting wall.

TBC…


	61. It’s Always What You Don’t Know

****

A.N.: _Apologies for the long delay on this part. R.L. has been kicking my but. I promise to update more regularly. For those of you who've stuck with this story this long, thank you.--L.M._

****

Part 61: It's Always What You Don't Know

Faith wrung the excess water out of her hair before glancing down at her clothes with a feeling bordering on despair. Everything on her back was ruined beyond salvaging. She knew there wasn't enough Simple Green, Shout, Goo Gone, or detergent to get snake guts 'n blood out.

It was beyond stupid. Replacing the stuff wasn't even an issue and no one was going to scream at her for wrecking her clothes in the line of duty, but years of her mother giving her shit for getting so much as grass stain on her jeans had become part of her DNA. Hell, even after the Boss gave her the apartment and the closet full of clothes, she still ended each night scrubbing shirts, underthings, and pants in the bathtub.

The Boss didn't know, because if he did he would've told her not to worry about it. He probably wouldn't understand why she felt she had to do it, especially since he was following through on the promise to take care of her.

She plucked uncomfortably at her shirt. About the only thing she could do was burn the motherfucker. She just wished she could stop feeling so goddamn guilty about it. It shouldn't even rank on her guilt parade, yet it still did with a nagging that sounded suspiciously like mommy dearest's voice.

Faith gave her face the once-over in the passenger-side mirror of elderly SUV and noticed that Charlie's drugs had worked like a charm. There wasn't even a hint of a bruise or scrape to prove that she'd been scrapping all night.

__

Not scrapping. Getting tossed around, abused, and then running away all night you mean.

"Fucking useless," she declared.

"I certainly don't think so."

Faith spun around to come face-to-face with Giles. "Give me a heart attack why dontchya?"

"I apologize. I thought I'd let you know that Robin is on his way to the hospital with Tammi, where I suspect she will be spinning a tale of woe involving a mugging and fisticuffs."

"He'll be okay, right?"

Giles nodded. "I can almost guarantee Xander and I have gotten it at least as bad on more than one occasion. While I cannot speak for Xander, I believe all my brain cells are still functioning normally despite that." He paused. "Although I've been known to, on occasion mind, have the urge to take an early morning constitutional wearing nothing more than a smile and a fig leaf."

Faith exploded with laughter.

"I'm glad you're amused," Giles said dryly. "What you did this evening was not 'fucking useless,' as you put it. You showed quite a lot of courage."

"Yeah, by running away with my tail tucked under my ass," Faith said bitterly.

"Do you know what I saw?" Giles asked. "I saw a young woman put in impossible situations. I saw a young woman who, when faced with a series of unpleasant choices, put the safety of others above her own pride as a Slayer. I also saw a young woman who kept people focused and organized even though she would much rather be doing something else."

Faith stared dumbfounded at Giles for a few moments. "Unh, Tweedy? You sure you're talking about me?"

Giles waved a hand around. "Look around you. Because of you, Willow and Robin were delivered safely out of harm's way. Because of you, we were all here and waiting when the others on your team reached the surface. As a result, we were able to organize a search party, which you led, to go and find Xander and Buffy. Finally, because of you, we will be leaving in a mere 20 minutes instead of scrambling around this godforsaken cemetery half the night."

Faith felt gob smacked. She honestly had no idea what to say.

Giles reached out a hand, squeezed her shoulder, and gave her a pleased smile. "Sometimes being the one who gets left behind to clean up the mess and bind the wounds is the hardest position of all. You get to shoulder the heavy burden, but you don't get any glory for it. Trust me on this, I know. I just wanted you to know that I saw and I give you a great deal of credit for doing what you did. You showed real courage and leadership." He dropped his hand to his side as his smile disappeared. "I only wish I could take credit for teaching you that."

Faith felt like her brain was about to cave in, so she dealt the only way she could: by focusing on something else. "I, unh, better go round up the others." Faith backed away.

Giles let out a sigh. "Of course. I best make arrangements to prepare the bed of Xander's battered pick-up truck for Catherine's people. Also, I best find a tarp for the minivan's seats for those of you with befouled clothes. Xander will be driving the lot of you, since he's one of the two licensed drivers still capable of taking the wheel."

"Unh, you're gonna have to find at least one more since Robin's down for the count. We need a driver for the truck or the SUV," Faith pointed out.

"I'll be driving Catherine and her people in the truck. I suppose I'll have to trust Dawn not to attract the attention of the police while driving the SUV."

"Dawn's not the problem."

"Yes. That blasted spell on the Grail." Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. "I imagine getting home will be quite the adventure. I'm hoping that since Catherine will be outside and not on the passenger seat next to me I'll somewhat shielded, but I'm not counting on that to be the case."

"Maybe you better have Charlie and J'Nal go in Dawn's group because they gotta…"

"Prepare for Willow's healing spell, yes, I know," Giles said. "Agreed, then. I best find Dawn and let her know."

"Yeah, she'll be thrilled to finally use that learner's permit of hers." Faith said. As Giles was about to turn away, she added, "Ummm, sorry. About the clothes. I know that buying all new stuff for all of us isn't going to be…"

A look of incredulity crossed Giles's face. "Good lord, Faith. Don't worry about it. I daresay it's not the first time a Slayer has destroyed her clothes in the midst of a fight and I'm fairly certain it won't be the last."

Faith could feel the grin on her face. "Thanks."

With a quick nod, Giles moved off, once more leaving Faith at loose ends. As she glanced around, she could see that if she waded in and started barking orders she'd only get in the way. Considering the size of their group, the other Slayers were managing to keep organized just fine without her.

Buffy and the girls who had hacked their way through the snake were finishing their hurried clean up. Like her, their clothes marked them as members of the Lizzie Borden sisterhood, but at least the excess gunk on their skin and in their hair was washed off. Andrea was helping Vi wrap up her gash, but judging by the way Vi was grinning, the wound was probably already starting to heal. Other girls were completing the boring task of loading the weapons—both whole and broken—in the ancient minivan. Catherine stood apart from the crowd as she miserably guarded her Grail while Ruda, Tikri, and J'Nal kept everyone a safe distance away.

At some point she finally spotted Xander standing still and alone in the rush and hurry of Slayers on the mission of a quick evacuation. Like her, his clothes were a complete loss, but at least his face didn't look like a blood-covered mask. Her Boston blood trained her to be somewhat resistant to cold, but even she felt the night chill thanks to her soaked clothes and hair. She figured with his California blood that he must be absolutely freezing.

She followed his glance and saw that he was watching Kennedy hold Willow tight while Charlie fussed over the unconscious witch. Too soon her eyes were drawn back to him and she realized that he looked something like a toy that had been tossed aside because its owner had found something a little shinier.

Faith screwed up her courage and approached. She was almost on top of him when she realized that she was on his blind side. "Hey, you okay?" she called out in warning.

He startled and turned. When he saw who it was, he gave her a tired smile. "Don't you mean oogie?"

"Oogie?"

"You know, what Cath—I mean, what our future friends say instead of okay."

"You hear oogie? I hear ooky, you know, like, ummm, _Adams Family_ ooky."

Tired smile turned into full-on grin. "Wow. Pop culture reference. You're getting assimilated. Resistance is futile."

"And you're avoiding the question."

Xander looked away. "The ankle's almost as good as new, so Charlie's drugs are still working. Don't ask me to run marathons. Well, not that I could run a marathon before. Or ever will. I'll leave that to people who are actually crazy."

"Who needs a marathon when you've got monsters?" Faith grinned.

"How's Robin?" Xander asked.

"Already on his way to the hospital. Tammi's going with so she can spin some sob story about getting mugged," Faith answered. "Since she's got bruises too, they'll probably buy that crap."

"Good. That's good." He shuffled on his feet a little more, eyes once more locked on Willow and Kennedy. When he spoke again, his voice sounded hesitant, "Faith?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For Willow."

Faith shrugged, feigning an air of nonchalance to cover her surprise. "What the gig's about right?"

Xander turned to face her. "Thank you anyway," he insisted.

Charlie finished whatever he was doing with Willow and jogged over to them. "If you're interested, we still have four standard hours to get you to a bed, so you're safe."

"No. We're not safe," Xander said. "No one's safe until we get home and lock the door behind us."

The doctor grinned a relieved grin. "Point taken. Still, we're a little closer safety." He nodded his head down at Xander's feet. "How's the ankle?"

"I went from 'I think it's broken' to 'I can walk with a slight limp.' We should just call you Miracle Max and get it over with," Xander said with a little more cheer than was really necessary. "You need the girls to line up with their ouchies here? Or do you want to wait until we get back to the house?"

Charlie's grin disappeared. "I can't."

"Why not?" Faith asked.

"I'm going to be using a lot for Willow," he tapped his scanner meaningfully, "plus, no one here is injured beyond what Slayer healing—or human healing in the case of Giles—can handle. I've got a limited supply of pharmaceuticals and I need to be more conservative, especially if it turns out we can't get home."

"What are you talking about?" Faith asked.

"In case they screwed the timeline, remember?" Xander reminded her.

"Oh, yeah."

"Look, I promise that if we're still here in 30 or so standard years, I'll break this out to help relieve the symptoms for any of the Slayers who get the shimmy-shakes, but beyond that I think…"

"Shimmy-shakes?" Xander sharply interrupted.

"Polgar Syndrome?" Charlie prompted.

Xander shook his head.

Light dawned on Charlie's face. "Oh, that's right. You probably know it by another name, don't you?"

Xander nonchalantly shrugged. "Why am I shocked if that's the case? Oh, wait. I'm so not. Describe the symptoms and I'll be able to tell you what we call it."

Faith's eyes snapped to Xander because she had no idea what Charlie was talking about. Xander obviously did, if she could judge by the expression on his face.

"Hmmmm," Charlie rubbed his chin in thought. "Okay, I won't bother describing the genetic markers for it since you probably don't have the technology to detect it and probably wouldn't know what I'm talking about. So, I'll describe the end-stage symptoms."

Xander nodded. "Probably right there. Lay it on me."

"It's when a Slayer starts exhibiting signs of nerve damage," Charlie explained. "You know, they start shaking so hard that they can barely hold anything, let alone a weapon. They eventually develop trouble swallowing and speaking. Eventually, the nerves misfire so rapidly that every muscle in the body simply fails, including the heart."

Xander considered that a moment before cautiously saying, "Sort of like Parkinson's Disease."

"Is that Slayer-specific?" Charlie asked.

This time Xander was firm in his reply. "Yes."

That's when Faith knew that Xander was playing the doc. He had no more fucking clue than she did.

"Hold up. My Watcher told me that it was a rare condition. It was, like, one in a million Slayers got it," she said.

Xander's head whipped around to look at her. He managed to cover up his surprised reaction by ladling on another lie. "Giles said that every Slayer will get it if they live long enough. He could point to something like three Slayers that got it."

__

Goddamn he's good. If they were conning for shits and giggles, this little game would be a beautiful thing to behold. She looked Xander straight in the eye and threw in her own lie. "Wes told me that there was a difference of opinion on that and that I shouldn't believe anyone who said it was inevitable. I mean, he could point to something like four Slayers that lived to the same age and never got it."

Xander nodded slowly. "I guess we'll find out in another 20 or 25 years," she noticed that Xander picked numbers under Charlie's 30, "it's just that I wish we had time to research that point before Willow cast the spell, but…well…I don't have to tell you what Sunnydale was like at the end, right?"

"Shit. I didn't even know you guys were looking at that." Faith shrugged through the building tension in her chest. "I could've put your minds at ease."

"Or irritated Giles. Your pick." Xander's eyebrows comically crunched before he turned back to a fidgeting Charlie. "Oooops. Sorry."

"No problem," Charlie said. "I better get to Catherine and…"

Xander reached out and grabbed Charlie's arm. "Hey, I know you can't tell us anything future-y, but, ummm, see? It's just that if you could answer this much, I would be really grateful." He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "I have to be honest. I've been losing a lot of sleep over this, you know? The guilt," he shook his head, "I mean you tell yourself that you're doing it to save the world, but at the same time you know, or you think you know, that every Slayer's got this ticking time bomb inside them and that they're going to die a really awful death and…" Xander let out a shuddering breath.

__

Give the man a fucking Oscar, Faith grimly thought.

Charlie blinked owlishly at Xander, whose face was radiating something akin to guilty sadness. Faith knew that Charlie didn't stand a fucking chance when Xander broke out the violins.

Charlie leaned forward and dropped his own voice low. "It's not rare, but it's not common. Something like one in 1,500 Slayers develop it. We don't know why it happens or what causes it, even in my time. It's not heredity. We've got entire lines of related Slayers where one will develop it, but no others. But we do know it's something genetic. The only thing we can do is run tests to look for the genetic markers that only show up in activated Slayers. The disease symptoms begin manifesting approximately 30 standard years after they become Slayers."

Xander gasped. Faith knew he wasn't faking this time. She tried her best to keep her expression neutral, but she really wasn't sure how successful she actually was.

Charlie gave them both pitying looks. "I know this doesn't make either one of you feel better, but developing the disease is not a foregone conclusion. Most Slayers never get it."

"Assuming they live that long." Faith's lips felt numb as she said it.

Charlie leaned in and grabbed her arm, dropping his voice to a whisper. "You will live long enough and you won't get it. You're safe." He suddenly let go and practically ran into the crowd of busy Slayers.

"Oh, god," Xander prayed.

Faith looked up at him. "We didn't know. We had no fucking clue. So stop…"

"How many people here do you think'll get it?" he interrupted.

Faith looked around her. "He said one in something like 1,500, right? So no way to know that either."

"We have to tell Giles. We have to tell Giles as in yesterday," Xander said.

"We gotta wait."

Xander turned his whole body around to give her an incredulous look.

"I think he pretty much told us all he could tell us," Faith kept her voice low, forcing Xander to lean down so he could hear her better. "Besides, if they can't do shit-all about this shimmy-shakes even with all their geek technology, I really don't see how us getting even more information is going to help us right here and right now."

"Maybe Willow or Giles…" Xander began.

"Maybe, maybe not," Faith said, "but think about this for a sec. We tattle. Giles jumps all over his ass. He clams up for good not just about this, but everything. We'll never be able to pull the shit we just pulled on him or any of his buds ever again because he'll just assume we're lying. If they're actually stuck here? That'll spell trouble in the long run."

"If they're stuck here, this'll come out anyway," Xander pointed out.

"Let's deal if it comes to that."

Xander hesitated a moment before giving her a slight nod. As he straightened up, he looked around him. "You know what this means, right?"

"That we just sentenced a whole lotta girls to death who might've never had to deal with this shit if they didn't become Slayers?" Faith responded quietly. "Yeah, I think I got that part even before we found out about the shimmy-shakes."

TBC…


	62. Making the Connection

****

Part 62: Making the Connection

Only two things had gone right the entire night: getting to Erie Cemetery and leaving Erie Cemetery. Maybe that's what really counted at the end of the day.

Buffy grabbed shotgun in the SUV and spent the entire trip home jabbering and talking in a way that Faith hadn't seen since she'd first met the blonde menace back in the day. She and the other Slayers talked about the fight with the mud people and Buffy filled in the blanks on how she killed snake-breath. Xander, by contrast, said not a word the entire time.

Faith noticed that every once in awhile Buffy'd toss the guy a worried look. She braced herself, ready to hear the inevitable question: _What's wrong with you?_

Thank Christ the question never came. While she doubted Xander'd spill the nasty secret, she had no idea how he'd react to that question right now.

Hell, shewasn't fucking sure how **she'd **react if Buffy asked.

They landed at the Motherhouse with everyone tumbling out the SUV. Xander weakly protested when Faith grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and without a word frog-marched him to one of the three full baths in the house.

"Shut the fuck up," Faith hissed at him when weak protest turned into a louder one. "You are on a schedule. You pass out like you are in your bed, **you're **cleaning up the mess." Not exactly diplomatic, but it won her that argument.

The hour after that was a blur of messy Slayers—blood-soaked ones first—lining up for the showers. Then there was the inspection of cuts and scrapes to check the healing while the girl in question babbled about how fucking awesome wicked cool kick-in-the-head great Slayer healing was.

A few things stood out: Charlie and J'Nal ascending the stairs to Willow's room talking in low voices that didn't sound at all good. A couple of Slayers carrying the still unconscious Willow upstairs. Catherine racing through the house curled around that goddamned Grail while everyone scattered out of the way. Giles following shortly after, pale and still shaking, muttering apologies for needing to pull over once on the way home because it got to be too much.

Considering what she heard from Dawn and Andrew, and taking into account the feeling of suffocation she felt as Catherine passed her, Faith concluded that Giles had balls of steel if he only needed to pull over the once. She definitely didn't begrudge him when he said that he needed to get to bed because he was exhausted from the strain of keeping his shit together all the way home.

At some point she even got the chance to hit the shower, get in clean clothes, and chuck her ruined clothes in the garbage can outside.

When the craziness was starting to subside, Kennedy, fresh from her own shower, silently went up the stairs.

"Don't go interrupting Charlie and J'Nal," Faith snapped at her back.

Kennedy looked over her shoulder, showing Faith a catalogue of worry lines etched around her eyes and mouth. "I won't. I just want to wait…I mean…I…I need to…"

Faith interrupted the other Slayer with a silent nod and watched Kennedy finish her ascent.

A few Slayers were drifting to bed. A few others stayed up and talked in hushed, excited voices about whatever fight they were involved in. Faith found herself studying each and every girl. Is that one getting a little too tired? Is that one maybe not as steady as she should be on her feet? Is that one a little too clumsy?

Much as she didn't want to answer the question—_Is someone here going to get this shimmy-shakes?_—she couldn't help it. Her eyes ached with the effort of trying to find some clue. She could feel the threat of a headache just waiting to pounce and the overwhelming urge to punch her fist through the wall in frustration.

Just when she was about to throw that punch, Vi's voice stopped her.

"Hey, anyone know where Xander is?"

Faith looked around and realized that Cyclops was among the missing. She'd seen him earlier, helping to get the girls organized and checking injuries, but now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen him in awhile. _One of two options: He's either hanging with Kennedy or he actually did something smart and went to bed before he passed out_, Faith thought.

Buffy materialized at Faith's left shoulder and hesitantly said, "He, uhm, he kinda needed a little alone time."

Back when Faith made her not-so-welcome return to the SunnyD, all the girls made fun of B's speeches and habit of hogging all the attention for herself. Okay, they did it behind B's back, but still they did it. Every time B opened her trap you could see all the girls and, hell, even the little Scoobs bracing themselves for the shit. About the only time she had their undivided serious attention was when she proposed that goddamned spell to make them all Slayers.

Well, well, well. I've gone from wanting to punch the wall to wanting to punch B. Some mean little part of her hoped that Buffy would get bit by that fucking disease Charlie talked about. Then again B was always the lucky one, so it probably wouldn't happen.

Hell, Charlie told her she was in the lucky boat and she definitely deserved to get it as much as B. Shit. She knew the real deal about being a Slayer even without the 411 from the future and she fucking went right along for the ride like it was no big deal.

As if sensing Faith's unspoken hostility, Buffy looked down at the carpet and uncomfortably shuffled, her damp hair hanging in her eyes. For a moment, Buffy looked so lost and young that Faith wondered if Xander had spilled the beans.

The other girls fell silent, watching and paying attention to Buffy in a way they hadn't since Sunnydale fell into the center of the earth.

"You see…um…" Faith tensed while Buffy tripped over her own tongue, "Four months ago to the day Spike and Anya died."

Faith snapped her head around to look at the other girls and saw that they seemed as shocked as she felt. They'd all forgotten. Only four months ago they were fighting for their lives, convinced they were going to be crushed like ants, and they still forgot. They forgot about Anya. They forgot about Spike. Hell, they forgot about their friends that didn't make it out.

She had a feeling that she wasn't the only one who was going to have trouble sleeping tonight.

"Oh god. Poor Xander," Lisa said. "And with Willow…"

"Yeah," Buffy agreed quietly. "I'm…um…sorry to bring it up, but you kinda asked and…"

"Why didn't no one mention anything?" Faith asked.

Buffy looked at her and hesitated a beat before giving Faith a tight smile. "We didn't want to say anything because we had this big thing and," she waved her hands uselessly, "we didn't want to jinx it."

Faith wasn't entirely sure she bought it, even if the explanation sounded about right.

"Should we do something?" Vi was sitting straight and looking guilty.

"Like what?" Barbara asked.

"I dunno. Just something," Vi said.

"Not tonight," Buffy said in a tired voice. "With everything…maybe tomorrow we'll do something. Chip in on flowers or…or…" she brightened "…breakfast in bed?"

"What about you?" Faith asked. "You need something?"

Buffy looked at Faith with surprise and then was startled by a chorus of soft 'yeah's of agreement from the other girls. She looked down again, blushing around her sad smile. "I'm okay, believe it or not. I mean, I'm not okay, okay, but I will be. Okay I mean." She looked up again, smile turning up an extra wattage point. "Thanks for asking, though." She yawned. "I'm going to sit with Kennedy a little and then I'm turning in."

As Buffy turned to leave, Faith reached out and halted her with a touch. "I'm sorry, B," Faith said quietly. "I wasn't exactly a fan, but Spike did right by you and everyone else in the end and no one can say he didn't."

"Thanks," Buffy said quietly. Then she left.

Faith drew a deep breath and looked back at the girls. They were sitting there, all lost in their own thoughts. It was right about then that Faith figured there was one thing she could do—no, scratch that—should do before the night was over.

She quietly crept away with her mission firmly in mind. The first thing she did was check Xander's room. Andrew was already in bed and out cold, but Xander was nowhere to be seen. Then she started a systematic search, sneaking through the halls like a thief, stealing peeks into various rooms, and checking with Kennedy and the yawning Buffy to make sure they didn't see him.

She was going to find him hell or high water and according to the clocks in the house she still had two hours to do it. The brownstone had plenty of hidey-holes if he was serious about disappearing, but this conversation couldn't wait. She had to do it now or she'd never do it at all.

Sooner or later you will have to come to grips with it. My advice to you is that you best do it before circumstances forces you to do so or removes the possibility altogether.

Tonight came close enough to too late. Next time—and she knew there'd be a next time—too close might become too late.

No shit she'd be intruding, but on some level she knew this was her last shot.

Ironically enough she found him on the front stoop of all places, sitting stiffly, with his back to the door. She could dig it: he didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want to have to deal with other people. _Been there. Done that. Have the goofy-ass t-shirt, _she thought.

"Hey," she quietly called.

Xander's shoulders squared, the only sign he heard her.

"Coming down," she announced, keeping to his right as she walked down the stairs, stopping when she hit the sidewalk. She turned and leaned against the wrought iron handrail so she could look at him.

There was a pause before Xander spoke in an exhausted voice. "No smoke?"

Her fingers reflexively twitched. "Nah. Lost 'em. Trying to see how long before I give in and cough up the cash to buy a new pack."

There was another deadly silence before Xander spoke in that monotone. "Oh. Alone time. I'll go back inside so you can…"

"Wait."

Xander checked himself, although this time he did look at her, cocking his head to the side in that odd way he'd picked up so she was firmly in his line of sight. He was getting good at manipulating the fake left eye so it looked like it was tracking to where his right eye was looking, but when he was tired like this she noticed it tended to wander blindly. People who didn't know the real deal would probably find this illusion of him peeking under his bangs charming, like he was some shy puppy that desperately wanted you to like him but was afraid you'd kick him instead.

Now when the hell did I notice all that about him? she wondered as her mind scrambled to find the words. To be honest, she just had a plan to find him; she didn't actually have a prepared speech.

"I, unh…heard. From Buffy. About…ummm…are you copasetic?" _Smooth. That's right. Prove you're anything resembling sincere by stuttering._ _Oh, and by **not **talking about what you want to talk about._

He closed his eyes and turned away. Faith just wanted to kick herself.

After an eternity, he dredged up a response. "I'll go back in. Give me a few…"

"S'okay. People pretty much understand." Faith kicked at the pavement. _Just say it already!_ "See, they figure if you want to talk, you'll, like, talk to someone. But you ain't built like that so I figured one of the mountains should get off their ass and check it out."

"Mountains?" There was a flash of amusement there.

"You know, that shit about Mohammed and mountains."

"I've heard the expression." More amusement. "I'm just wondering…"

"One of my cellmates found God," Faith said. "Well, more like Allah, if you get my drift. You ever notice that? Some people start wanting to hang with God, Allah, Jesus, or what have you **after **they've fucked up their lives? I mean, what the fuck is upwith that?"

Xander's eyebrows comically drew together and she could see him fighting a smile. "Ooooh-kay. It's official. You're beginning to **talk **like a Scooby."

"Am not," she reflexively disagreed.

"Faith? You're dancing so fast around whatever it is you're dancing around that you're making my head hurt," the smile disappeared, "so whatever it is, get it the hell over with because I'm not in the mood."

Right. "You scare the piss out of me, you know that?"

That was enough to get Xander to look at her full-on, surprise stamped on his features.

"You—the fucking **idea** of you—scares the shit right out of me. You, Alexander Harris, are the scariest motherfucker I've ever met, and since I went toe-to-toe with Angelus, had Buffy after my scalp, and screwed with some pretty dicey people, that's gotta tell you something, right?" Funny how that now that she said it, she knew it was true.

He remained silent, but his face fell into no expression at all. He had no idea where she was going, so he was playing it the only way he knew how: don't feed the fire, keep his mouth shut, and wait to see if she threw a punch at him.

Yeah, she knew what that was like, especially since she wasn't sure where she was going either. Time to go with the gut.

"See, I could get where everyone was coming from. But you?" She waved a hand at him. "I don't get you. Not at all. See, if you were like, I dunno, wanting something from me? Or wanting a piece of me? I could get that. Hell, I'd even deserve it. I got shit from B when I showed up in Sunnydale, little sis gave me her share, Giles couldn't see me past Buffy, Spike spent time staring at my tits before smacking me around, the Potentials wanted me only because I **wasn't **Buffy, and I walked out of Sunnydale with Robin's dick in my hand. But you? Nothing. I just got nothing. I got no shit, but I didn't get anything else out of you either."

A bubble of irritation gave itself away in his voice. "I really don't see…"

"Look, all I'm trying to say is…Christ…that's why I haven't…that's why I've been such a…" Faith gritted her teeth and tried again. "What I'm trying to say is that it was easy to say sorry to everyone but you because with them that shit wasn't personal. Playing with Angel back in the Dale was all about Buffy. Screwing over Buffy wasn't so much about her as it was about me wanting what she had—like the cool mom, and the friends, and the still-breathing Watcher. Torturing Wes was all about him ratting me out to the Council back in the day."

"This is supposed to make me feel better. Just business with everyone else but, hey, I'm special because…" Xander cut off his voice, clenched his jaw, and looked away. "So, you're saying it's all my fault so you don't think I deserve an…"

"No…I mean…yeah, what I did with you? That was personal. I was trying to kill **you** when I, you know," she took a breath and weakly added, "tried to kill you."

His head wobbled in disbelief. "Thanks. I feel sooo much better listening to that dashboard confession."

"But don't you see?" she dropped onto the step at his feet. "It's **because **you scare the piss out of me. I'm not saying it was **your **fault. It's wasn't. And I'm not tryin' to say it was. It's just that saying 'Yo! About the bruises! Sorry. At least they healed, right? So, we're good?' is just weak shit to say, especially because the whole fucking thing was personal for both me and for you."

Xander looked away, staring vacantly down the sidewalk, not saying anything. On the good side, he wasn't telling her to shut the fuck up and storming away. On the bad side, he wasn't about to help her through this. She was well and truly on her fucking own.

Fair enough. No point in being a pussy about it. She was never one for croc tears anyway.

"See the thing is, of all the people I've hurt, I think I hurt you the most. I didn't just use you as a fucking dildo. I kicked you in the nuts and then made you feel like shit I scraped from the bottom of my shoe just because I could."

He looked back at her, once more off balance because she stated her list of crimes in such a cold light. "This is all about power, isn't it?" he asked, just a trace of sarcasm.

She kicked back and leaned against the wrought iron, staring at the tip of his steel-toed workboots. "Power is funny shit. You got it, or you don't. The screwy thing is you got the power, always did even if no one saw it because it wasn't knock-you-on-your-ass power. Now me? I could break you in half, but all I'd be doing is breaking you in half, right?"

"Would still be just as dead," Xander grunted.

"Yeah, but think about the shit I pulled on you. In your fucking shoes, I'd be steering clear of me, leaving town, calling in a hit, anything to make sure I was gone. But you're not. You're sitting there actually **talking **to me. Hell, past few days you've been telling me where to get off. You might be nervous as hell, but then again you might not. I don't know because you don't treat me any different from anyone else." She looked up into his confused expression. "You want to know power? **That** my one-eyed friend is power and that's power you can't kill no matter how hard you try."

"I don't understand."

It hit her just then. The only reason why Xander was still sitting there instead of telling her to go to hell was because she bought a moment of grace by carrying Willow out of the maze. So she took a deep breath and ordered herself, _Don't blow this _

"What I'm trying to say is if you were just like everyone else? I could deal. If you were a little less on the up-and-up in dealing with people around here? If you were looking at the newbies like they were a hole and a heartbeat? I could rest easy knowing you weren't any different from any other guy with a dick. Then I could hand you that weak-ass apology and walk away clean feeling all fuzzy about myself."

"So again, my fault because I'm not a complete asshole?" There was a trace of amusement in the question. "If I slapped your ass when you walked by would that help?"

Faith barked a laugh because it was so unexpected. Xander was throwing her a rope. A slim rope true, but he did it even though he didn't have to.

"Thing is back in the day, you know, when I threw you down on the bed, did the tease, and then strangled you," it seemed easier admitting it now that someone had finally mentioned the elephant in the corner, "I really did figure you were looking for an easy score off desperate, damsel-in-distress me. I honestly did. I **still **believed it when Willow came to pick me up from LA, following?"

Xander's face was back to serious and he nodded.

"'Cept I show up in the Dale and I get nothing from you, like I said. Plus, shit just started piling up the second I pulled up to B's door, so I really didn't get a chance to catch you. Anyway, you get hurt, things blow up with B, then I get blown up, then we got right to the big battle, then we're running our asses to Cleveland. Next thing you know, one day in the Dale turns into four months later in Cleveland. All that time I see you keeping your shit together, helping other people keep their shit together, and not asking for a fucking thing in return."

"Which you've said, so I don't get where you're going."

Damn. He really is listening, isn't he? Faith took a breath. "So it hits me, because I'm slow on the uptake, that maybe, just maybe, you were being something like sincere when you showed up in my room that night with an offer to help or be my friend. That you **weren't **looking for another taste and that it was exactly how you said. Which means I'm 100-fucking-percent at fault. I fucked up. Not you. I fucked up because for a minute back in the Dale I **believed **you and that scared the piss out of me so I dealt by trying to obliterate you. It **still **scares the piss out of me that despite all that, you'd fucking throw your life away to save anyone in this goddamn house, **including **me. It scares the piss out of me that you're actually the real deal and I was the one that almost made you a memory before I had a chance to see it."

"One of many, actually," Xander said thoughtfully, hand subconsciously touching his left cheek. "I've got a dangerous job, remember?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to be just Faith-the-chick-who-tried-to-off-me to you. I want to be Faith-we've-had-our-problems-but-she's-one-of-the-good-guys to you." She started picking at his shoelaces. "Does that even make any fucking sense?"

"Yeah," he quietly said.

"Good. Because I've got no fucking clue why that's important to me, but there you go." She took a breath and once more looked up into his face. He had an expression, but she could be damned if she could figure out what it meant. "So here goes: I'm sorry. I fucked up when I fucked you over. I know you'll never trust me, and I don't blame you for that. I just want you to know that I know that I blew any connection I could've had with you and blew it but good."

Something relaxed around his mouth and he studied her. He was quiet long enough for Faith to start squirming, so she jumped a little when he finally spoke.

"You know how they say there's some things you can't ever apologize for?" He gave her a small smile. "They'd be wrong. Thanks."

She dropped her eyes and was back to playing with his bootlaces. While not a rousing vote of confidence in her sincerity, it was at least a start. More than she expected to get from him if she were being brutally honest, so she'll take it.

"This isn't because of Catherine, is it?" he asked.

Her head shot up at that and she recognized the sly, sarcastic amusement on his face.

"Nope. When I came out the other day on this here stoop I was trying to, you know, make it right somehow between us and…"

"I told you where to get off." His body language relaxed. "Look, don't take this wrong way, but I'm relieved to hear it because, no offense, me and you? Sitting where I am right now I just don't see it."

Faith gave him a dimpled grin. "Can't argue with that." She stood, brushing off her ass as she did so. "I'm going in."

"I'll come with," he said as he stood. "I'm getting cold and I can wait for news about Robin and Willow inside as well as outside."

They entered the house without another word, just in time to see Catherine stealing out the backdoor looking several shades of troubled.

"You don't think Willow…" Faith began.

"No," Xander cut her off. "If they were losing Willow, there'd be more noise and it's still pretty quiet. It's something else."

Faith stopped and rubbed her neck. "Want me to get this one?" she asked.

"Nah. I've got it. I think I know what's bothering her." Xander moved past Faith and followed Catherine.

Faith hesitated a moment and without knowing why stole after him. She hit the kitchen and peered out into the backyard. There was Catherine sitting dejectedly on the bench, and there was Xander, hands in pockets, approaching all casual-like.

She watched as he sat down and began talking to her. Somewhere in there, Catherine's spirits seemed to perk and at one point she started giggling. Faith felt the corners of her mouth tug upward in sympathetic relief that the storm passed with no drama.

The whole scene was enough to make her stop and think. Back in the Dale on that night she was dealing with Xander-then, before he knew exactly how to get to someone. If Xander-now went back and dealt with Faith-then? There was no doubt in her mind that the outcome would be a very different thing, complete with her taking him up on that wasted opportunity to call someone a friend and mean it.

Yeah, she's willing to cop to it, he **still **scares the piss out of her.

* * *

"Hey."

Catherine's head twitched, but she didn't say anything.

Xander responded by shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, where's the grail?"

"Tucked up in the rafters, " Catherine waved at the roof of the house, "Ruda and Ms. Tikri are standing guard over it, just in case."

Xander looked up at the house. "Sure it's far enough away to prevent people from going fetal?"

"We checked with some of the Slayers before they went to bed. They get a little nervous when they go near," Catherine frowned as she reached for the right word, "you know that hole in the ceiling with the ladder?"

"Yup."

"When it's open and the ladder is down they get nervous. Otherwise, they all said they felt fine." She hunched her shoulders. "Sorry about that. We got a little carried away."

Xander took a deep breath and plopped down on the bench next to her. "I saw Willow, remember? Believe me I understand." He paused, teeth worrying his bottom lip. "I guess I'm just surprised that you're not up there with them. I mean, what's with the disappearing act? Hiding in the backyard? I may not know you that well, but this doesn't strike me as you."

"I left you."

He shrugged. "Didn't have a choice."

"I **had **a choice," she turned around to face him. "I could've…"

"Stayed with me, let the big ugly eat you, me, and Buffy and leave your Slayer all alone?" Xander asked in all innocence.

"One, you and Sumers-r…I mean Buffy are just fine. Two, Ruda's **not **alone. That's what the team is about."

"But she relies on you," Xander interrupted. "I don't know if you noticed, but you're on an alien world, so it probably would've been a pretty dumb move to trade yourself for me. Dumb's my territory not yours."

"I hate that."

"Hate what?"

"I hate it when you put yourself down." She looked away and added in a softer voice. "It's not right."

"Because it's kinda like putting you and your whole family down?"

"No, because it's **you**."

Xander sighed. "Not much of a -rah or a -sen in me, hunh?"

"But that's the point, there, well, kinda is. Sorta."

"Way to boost my ego."

"Okay, look, the whole -sen thing is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you," the Watcher Honoria admitted. "That's a Slayer thing, which I'm definitely not, so…"

"But you could have been," Xander stated as he studied her profile. "Why turn it down?"

"I told you…"

"The real story."

Catherine's mouth twitched. "I wasn't chosen."

"I don't understand."

"Look, I know any Slayer from my time would tell you that they chose, and they **did **to a certain extent. But it goes two ways. Just because you have the Potential, doesn't mean you should do it."

"Sounds like hiding your light under a bushel."

Catherine turned to face him, as if she were pleading for him to understand. "Or maybe because I knew I'd make a lousy Slayer. I mean, look at Ruda. She loves being a Slayer and wouldn't have it any other way. It's just a part of her personality. Me? I tasted the power and just knew it'd be a constant fight to strike some balance between the Slayer and the girl and I just didn't want it."

"What are you talking about? You're smart, you've got leadership skills, you know how to…"

"But I'd always be wondering where Catherine ended and the Slayer began," Catherine interrupted. "At least this way I know it's all me, all the way. If I screw up, it's because **I **screwed up. If I do good, it's because **I **did good. I didn't even want to be a Potential."

"You always wanted to be a Watcher, sorry, Watcher Honoria?" Xander asked.

"Didn't even want that," Catherine chuckled. "My family, see, has **always **been involved as either Watchers Honoria or Slayers or researchers or weapons-makers or Prima, or **something**. There isn't one of us that didn't go into the family business. I just wanted to try something different. **Be **someone different."

"You probably pulled a Giles right after the vision quest, right? Went a little wild, made with the bad magic, came back older and wiser with a serious tweed addiction?"

"Tweade?"

"Forget it," Xander chuckled.

Catherine sat in silence for a few moments. "Thing is, I got sent out on the Vision Quest, saw the First Slayer, got asked the question, and when I looked in her eyes, I **knew**."

"Bet she wasn't happy when you said no."

"I knew I wanted to be a Watcher Honoria. I knew just like that," Catherine snapped her fingers. "Don't get me wrong, I love power funnies and sometimes I think it would be nice to leap tall structures in one jump, but I like being Catherine even more. So I told her: I wanted to be a Watcher Honoria and she couldn't make me be a Slayer, even if she killed me."

"So what happened?" Xander was hanging on every word.

"You know? It's the strangest thing because she gave me a personal message even though I said no. She smiled, kissed me on the forehead, said 'You do your family great honor,' and then she was gone."

"Wow."

"Wow," she agreed.

"Kinda sad, though," Xander said.

"How so?"

"Still got stuck in the family business instead of doing your own thing. I'm sorry about that."

Catherine smiled what was fast becoming a too-familiar grin. "I'm not. I like my job and I like my people. Besides, I got to do it my way, which in the end is what counts." She giggled. "You should've **seen **how everyone in the family reacted."

"Why do I get they were thrilled, except not."

"Horrified. My family has been populated with Slayers since you and Faith…" she cleared her throat. "Well, there've been a lot and not **one **has ever turned it down, well, at least since Potentials got the ability to turn it down. Along comes me, the first girl in the family to say no thanks."

"Let me guess: there was much yelling and breaking of glass?"

"Oooooh, yeah," Catherine giggled again. "They're over it now. Hada, even my **mom **agrees I probably made the right decision. Hard as it may be for you to believe, I **am **good at my job."

"I know you are." When Catherine looked at him in surprise, he added with a shrug, "I can tell by the way your team reacts to you. They like you, but they respect you, too. It's kinda like us and Giles, or at least that's the way it was in the early days. The last two years have been, well I probably don't have to tell you, bad. Really bad. But I'd like to, I dunno, I kinda miss the G-man." Xander looked around and conspiratorially added, "But don't tell **him **that. I think he likes being under appreciated."

"Secret's safe with me," Catherine grinned.

TBC…


	63. Do Or Not Do

****

Part 63: Do Or Not Do

Morning, or rather early afternoon, was a cornucopia guilt. Xander crawled out of his drug-induced sleep only to discover that the baby Slayers had pulled together a brunch for "no particular reason."

Needless to say, he wasn't buying, especially since he spotted Buffy and Dawn peaking into the kitchen while the newbie Slayers fluttered around him with food and an endless stream of coffee. Xander could pretty easily guess the why behind the whole shebang.

Welcome to guilt trips numbers one and two: Anya and all things Sunnydale.

The breakfast was excruciating—and not just because the toast was burned, the eggs were runny, and the coffee was bitter. Anxious Slayers seemed hell-bent on watching him yum up every bite and pour just a little too much cream and sugar into his caffeine not-so-goodness. While they grinned and jabbered at him as he ate, he could feel his one good eye ache with the effort of trying not to stare at the girls around him. He really, really, really didn't want to find some telltale sign of an impending case of shimmy-shakes.

Just the same his mind kept ticking over, _Is it you? How about you? Maybe...you seem clumsy, well clumsy-ish for a Slayer. Wait, wait. Is her hand shaking just a little too much?_

Meet major league guilt number three: the shimmy-shakes and the fact that he blithely went along with a plan that sentenced a countless number of Slayers to something that sounded like a pretty horrible way to die.

Then again, as Faith pointed out last night, he should've known that even without the shimmy-shakes in the equation. How many years did he watch Buffy fight things that were bigger and badder than she was? Hell, how many times did he see her almost die? How many times did he see her **actually **die?

While he stomach churned around runny eggs and his mouth chewed the burnt toast, he really hoped his smile didn't look toofake or his voice sound too strained.

At some point Andrew sailed into the kitchen smiling a pleased-with-the-world smile that triggered Xander's reptilian urge to cruelly swipe it off his face.

"They did this all by themselves," Andrew said proudly as if he thought breakfast was the rousing success it really wasn't. "They didn't want any help from me."

"Better watch out then," Xander thought his voice sounded just a little too happy, "you might get replaced as the house cook if you keep letting the Slayers use the stove." And yes, some mean little part of him did a happy dance while Andrew's smile dimmed slightly, even if the girls protested that no one could top Andrew's mastery in the kitchen.

Ahhhh, right on schedule, guilt trip number four: the fact that he can't get over the fact that Anya died and Andrew was still drawing breath. He knew he was being unfair, but the sad thing was he couldn't even bring himself to care, hence the guilt.

"I, unh, actually came in to tell you that Willow's awake," Andrew was stumbling over his words now, "I mean, I figured you'd want to see her but she's been sleeping on and off. Kennedy says she's been asking for you and J'Nal says it's okay if you want to…"

"I'm on my way," Xander interrupted.

As he stood, guilt trip numbers five and six took a bow: Willow and Robin. They both got hurt and he did nothing about it. Well, not him, but future him. What kind of son of a bitch was he going to turn into if he didn't bother to drop some sort of hint about either one?

__

Is it wrong if I don't ever want to know the answer to that question? he wondered as he got to his feet, thanked the beaming baby Slayers, and trudged up to Willow's room carrying enough guilt for three of him on his back.

He pushed his way into the room to see Willow looking pale and tired as Kennedy held her hand. On his entrance, Kennedy stood up and gave him a tired smile of her own.

"Hey, you finally made it back to the land of the living," the Slayer said.

"Yeah. Whatever Charlie pulled out of his magic kit did a number." This was easy. Just slip into the banter. Try not to stare at Kennedy to see if she was shaky.

"Not too long," J'Nal interrupted from a shadowy corner. "Willow needs more rest."

"Gah!" Xander jumped at the unexpected presence of the J'Nal. "Where did you come from?"

"He's been there since they finished healing Willow." Kennedy shot J'Nal an unhappy look. "He's been growling at everyone who's stopped in for a visit."

"He's just making sure I don't go all blooey again, which I don't blame him if there might be more blooey. Better to have someone to stop the blooey before blooey causes gooey," Willow said.

"You must be tired. You're trying to rhyme," Xander joked.

"She's a trooper. That's my girl." Kenney bent down and gave Willow a quick kiss on the forehead. "I'll leave you two nutcases to do whatever it is you two do when I'm not around to keep an eye on you."

"Please tell me you're going to do something resembling sleep," Willow said as she smiled up at her girlfriend.

Kennedy let out an irritated sigh. "Gotta do something first then I promise I'll be back here to take a snooze."

J'Nal began, "I believe that it's best if you sleep else…" His mouth snapped shut mid-word when Kennedy leveled a Slayer death glare at him.

"Wow. You have to teach me how to do that," Xander said.

"Spoken like someone who's never seen your if-looks-could-kill face," Kennedy said.

"You're confusing me with Giles."

"Plus there's a way around that," Willow said, "just wave a Twinkie under his nose and, poof, instant happy and a Snoopy dance to go with."

"Very funny," Xander groused.

"Whatever. Later alligators." And on that, Kennedy exited to do whatever it was she had to do.

Xander shuffled uncertainly at his position near the door. _Please, Wills, don't start asking questions about what happened. Please don't._

"So, are you going to talk to me? Or are you just going to act like you've just ripped the head off my Barbie and buried the body in the backyard?"

"Some sins can never be forgiven," Xander intoned as he slid into the now-empty chair.

Willow winced. "Sorry."

"About what?"

"I didn't mean to…I mean we were, what? Five? Six? I shouldn't've…"

Xander was genuinely mystified. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, about the fact that…"

"Hold on, Wills." Xander turned so his one good eye was on J'Nal. "No offense, but I don't suppose you could leave?"

"No." J'Nal sounded pretty firm.

"Xander, it's okay," Willow said.

Xander ignored her. "Seriously. I'd like to talk **privately** with my friend. So if you could…"

"No. You remember how fast she…" J'Nal stopped himself from finishing the sentence as he gave Willow a meaningful look.

"Well, that's subtle," Willow grumbled.

"As in Klingon subtle," Xander agreed.

"Which leaves me to wondering what happened." Willow was giving him a deadly two-fer: resolve face with a heaping dose of questioning right on top. "Kennedy said she heard it was bad and…"

"Not so bad," Xander interrupted.

"Unh-hunh." Willow definitely had cynical written all over her voice. "The truth, Xander. Because if you don't tell me, I'm sure someone else will if I ever get out of this bed and start asking questions. I'd rather hear it from you than walk out there and find out that I turned someone into a pink elephant and subjected them to a plague of purple mice. Ummm, I didn't did I?"

"Do what?"

"Turn someone into a pink elephant. Or a purple mouse," Willow swatted at him.

"There were no pink elephants or purple mice injured while filming this movie," Xander promised as he took her hand.

"Okay, so no elephants and no mice. What about people?"

"Are you sure…" Xander began.

"I need to know." Willow squeezed his hand. "I mean, if I walk out there and people are going to be acting all weird around me, I want to be prepared. Please, Xander. I trust you to tell me the truth."

__

Since when? "What do you remember?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean…"

"If you get any more avoid-y you're going to disappear while I'm watching you."

Xander looked to J'Nal.

"I'm not helping you," J'Nal said.

"I didn't ask you to."

J'Nal leaned forward and studied Xander a moment before issuing his verdict. "Yes you were." He leaned back against the wall. "Catherine's given me that look a few times, so I know it when I see it."

"Xander," Willow warned. "I may not remember anything. You may not want to tell me anything. But there are plenty of people who have good memories who will tell me if I asked. Well, except for J'Nal. He won't tell me anything."

__

Gee. Thanks a whole hell of a lot pal, Xander thought.

J'Nal responded with a soft snort, as if he could read Xander's mind.

Willow clutched his hand and stared hard into his face. "Xander? How bad was it?"

__

She's afraid. He could see it in the way she hunched her shoulders, as if waiting for a crash landing. The thing was this: she was right. If he didn't tell her right here and right now, someone else would.

"There were some problems," he said carefully while his mind scrambled to find the right way to tell her the truth without tossing on the hurt. "Your, unh, your mind it…ummmm…sort of went for a walk. Faith told me it happened after you touched the Grail."

"That sounds about right," Willow said at a whisper.

"And you were kind of mumbling stuff, but it was mostly harmless. Totally harmless, actually. Completely and absolutely harmless in a freaky sort of she's-talking-to-herself kind of way, not that I knew what you were talking about. Or that anyone knew what you were talking about. I mean, clueless. Totally clueless. So, it was mostly harmless mumbling and, ummm, there may have been some naughty grabbing…" _Shut up shut up shut up!_

"Naughty grabbing," Willow deadpanned.

"I think you confused me with someone else."

"Do I want to know?"

"I didn't get a name. I mean, it definitely wasn't me, but I don't know who I was supposed to be either." Xander was just relieved he didn't have to sugarcoat that answer. "Although in the future? If you're going to grab and rub Junior, I beg you to warn me first so I can start running. Kennedy would **kill **me if she found out."

Willow began giggling. "I **didn't**."

"You did. And you were really good at it, too. If Faith wasn't watching, boy oh boy…"

"Xander!" Willow squealed as she slapped at him.

Xander ducked his head and grinned. _Yes! Did it again! The distract-o boy has his mojo on._

Willow's giggles faded out with a series of trying-not-to-laugh coughs, which was probably why the next statement took him completely off guard. "If you're talking about naughty public touching like you enjoyed it, I must've done something really horrible."

Xander looked up and saw from Willow's face that she knew what he was trying to do and she wasn't about to let him get away with it.

"I know you, Xander." Willow wasn't wavering. "You were dying of embarrassment when it happened, so for you to go all 'was it good for you baby' I know that I must've gone evil."

He was in a corner and he knew it. She left him one option and one option only: unvarnished truth. So, with a final despairing glance at J'Nal, he took Willow's hand and laid out the bare facts. She thought he and Faith were monsters that were killing children. She attacked them. She literally ripped his mouth off his face. He kind of blacked out while Faith desperately tried to talk her down. From what he understood, Charlie probably saved everyone when he charged to the rescue with sedatives and doped her to the gills.

He tried to be matter-of-fact about it, but the words stumbled and bumbled. He could almost imagine the taste of blood in his mouth as the truth ripped at his tongue before escaping into the now-stuffy air. He couldn't even look at her, focusing instead on her small, white hand clutched in his stupid, clumsy large one.

"So that's how you got hurt," Willow said quietly. "Buffy said Charlie had given you meds and that's why you were out cold this morning, but she didn't say why."

Xander shrugged. "I'm not sure if Buffy even knows. We, unh, really didn't get a chance to talk last night or this morning."

"They're going to be afraid of me again, aren't they?" Willow asked in a small voice. "Every time I think they've forgotten or at least were willing to sort of think I'm one of the girls I do something stupid to remind them. Sometimes I wish…"

"Don't." The interruption was reflex. Anya was pretty adamant about never saying the 'w' word to the point where he'd gotten almost paranoid even thinking it.

Willow winced like she could read his mind. "No wishing. Gotchya."

"Besides, this is all my fault, so if anyone should be beating themselves up, it should be me."

Willow's forehead crinkled with confusion. "Now you've lost me."

"I should've realized…I mean, we're going into a situation, right? So it makes sense. Something's going to go wrong because, hey, it always does. Well, not always, but usually. Sometimes. But, okay, no way to know it was going to go as wrong as it did."

"Xander? Did we get the Grail?"

"Yes."

"So, not seeing the wrongness here. I mean, we got the Grail. Grail is safe. No one died. So, no problem, right?"

"People got hurt."

Willow froze. "Hurt? Who else did I…"

"Not you. Me."

"Whoa. Back up mister. **You** hurt people? How?"

"I should have known," Xander admitted. "I mean, it makes sense. When people fight, people get hurt. I **knew **there was going to be some kind of fight with a big ol' snake. I didn't even think…"

Willow yanked on his hand to get him to look at her. "You're not making any sense. Besides you, who got hurt?"

"You did."

"Me not so much. I mean, I'm not tip-top and I probably won't be busy bee-ing for a few days, but I'm a one-piece Willow with no missing parts and…" Willow winced. "Which is a really stupid thing to say about missing parts so just ignore me and pretend in your head that I said something cool and suave that convinced you that I'm fine-ish, okay?"

"Robin got a concussion. A pretty bad one. They had to keep him overnight at the hospital for observation."

"Oooooo-kaaaaayyyyyyy," Willow said slowly. "But Vi told me that Robin hit his head while you and he were running from your snake. So, unless you whacked him, I don't see how…"

"And then I found out…" Xander quickly stopped himself.

"Found out…" Willow began.

__

Don't tell. Don't tell. Don't tell. Christ, it was bad enough he knew and Faith knew but if he told Willow it would kill her. "Vi got hurt."

Willow studied him a moment as if she just knew he was hiding something. "I saw Vi earlier and she seemed fine," she finally said.

"Ummm, yeah. Slayer healing. But she kind of messed up her arm pretty bad, not that you'd know it today. I guess I'm not used to…I mean it was bad enough knowing some of them died in Sunnydale, and things have been quiet-ish here so I sometimes forget that they're basically playing Powerball with their lives."

"Yeah. Sooner or later their number's up. Trust me. I think about it a lot."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Willow shook her head. "But that still doesn't tell me why you think that **you **hurt people."

"The journal," Xander said.

"The journal," Willow repeated in a flat voice.

"I should've warned you, I mean me, I mean…what I'm trying to say is that I should've known this would happen."

Willow leaned back against her pillows looking incredulous. "How? I mean, it's not like you knew, knew. I read the journal too and I don't remember anything like, 'Hey! Look out for that Grail! The first touch is a doozy!' Or, 'Hey, Robin! Don't forget to duck!'"

"Which is my point. That's exactly my point."

"Xander," she was taking on that tone she used to get when she spent an hour explaining a math problem and he still didn't get it, "If you didn't warn you, then how are you supposed to know?"

"Because I should have warned me. I mean, it's the least I could do, right?"

Willow chewed that over a bit before her face brightened. "Unless you couldn't!"

"Hunh?"

"Think about it. This whole Grail thing was supposed to happen somewhere else with only you and Faith. Right, J'Nal?"

"That would be correct," J'Nal volunteered.

Xander startled a bit at the mention of J'Nal. The other witch was so quiet that he'd forgotten that there was someone else in the room with them.

"And, you know, you couldn't exactly go warning people to be careful if they're not actually supposed to be there, right?" Willow asked.

Oh, it would be so easy to accept it and let it slide. But he just couldn't. He had to be a man about this and take the lumps he deserved. "Nice theory. One problem. You remember the second entry, right? The one that basically said I was right in thinking that the Grail was right here? I couldn't warn me then?"

Willow's expression collapsed slightly as she chewed her lip. She then repeated: "Unless you couldn't."

"Not seeing the why not."

"Well, what if it was kinda important, right? What if those big ol' mumbles from me you heard made no sense but turns out to be important? Or," she began to wave her hands as her expression brightened, "maybe it was important, like life-savage important, that things had to happen the way they did otherwise things would go all higgledy piggledy."

"Hig-el-dee pig-el-dee?" J'Nal asked.

"Shush you," Willow said. She turned back to Xander and said, "Or maybe, just maybe, it didn't happen the way it happened the first time it happened. It could've happened completely different for future you so you couldn't warn you since you didn't know about it. I mean, we don't know if we've messed up the timeline or not."

"You know, if you're trying to cheer me up? You're not. This is not cheering to me at all," Xander said. "'Cause then we're all in big trouble if the timeline has gone wrong."

"Agreed," J'Nal said grimly.

"Look, I'm just trying to say that there may be a very good reason why you couldn't warn yourself about what happened. It's something to think about, right?"

Xander rubbed his face with his hands. He wanted to believe her, but…

"Maybe," he grudgingly said. "I'm not onboard with the excuse train, but maybe you've got a point."

"Of course I do!" Willow grinned. "Because, I know you and if you could lay down the warn, you would've had that journal sending up flares and big flashy lights and all sorts of red alerts."

"Or maybe my future self really is an assface."

"Stop it!" Willow swatted at him. "No more painting yourself a bad guy. There will be no bad guy painting here, well, at least over this. Besides, we don't have all the facts. Right now we don't know enough, so time…"

"If you say, 'time will tell,' I'm gong to sic the cliché police on you."

Willow sighed. "Xaaaan-deeer. Will you at least think about what I said?"

Xander reluctantly nodded. "Fine. I'll think about."

"That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?" Willow asked.

"'Fraid so."

Willow let out a yawn.

"Oh, man. You're tired. I'm…"

"You apologize I'm going to hurt you," Willow threatened. "And I'm only a little tired."

"Which is why you're yawning and all pale-like, right?"

"Okay, maybe more than a little," Willow admitted. "But I don't want you to think I'm kicking you out."

At least he could smile at that. "Nope. Don't feel the kick." He leaned over and kissed Willow on the forehead. "Just get some rest, okay? I'll see you in a bit."

"You better. I'm thinking a game of gin later?" Willow threw puppy eyes on top of the question.

Xander stood. "I'll bring the cards." As an afterthought, he gave J'Nal a quick nod before leaving the room.

When he closed Willow's bedroom door behind him, he stopped and leaned against it. Typical. He'd gone to do the cheer-up thing and ended up making Willow cheer him up. Selfish. No other word for it.

Still, there was some food for thought there. If he really wanted to believe that he didn't warn himself about people getting injured because it didn't happen the first time around that meant the future was wide open.

And if it was wide-open, maybe that meant he could warn someone who might be able to do something about a certain shimmy-shakes, or at least get the research ball rolling.

__

But what if Willow's wrong and…

No. Stop. Don't think.

"There is no think. There is no try," he said quietly to himself. "As Yoda says, 'Do or do not.' So, what are you going to do?"

Only one thing to do, really.

Xander forced himself to stand on his own two feet. After a brief, unsteady moment, he squared his shoulders and started walking to Giles's room.

TBC…


	64. The Future Is Now

****

Part 64: The Future Is Now

Willow leaned back against her pillows with a sigh as soon as the door shut behind Alexander. "J'Nal?"

"Yes?"

"C'mere," Willow indicated the chair Alexander had vacated, "we need to talk."

J'Nal did as requested, not particularly pleased with this state of affairs. Willow had been passively-aggressively asking him questions off and on between naps and visitors, as if testing to see if she could get information out of him.

Willow watched as he took the seat next to her bed. Her jaw line was hardened and her expression was set in determined stone. "I'm guessing that you guessed I wasn't exactly being entirely truthful. Well, not truthful at all. I mean, that I was lying. Completely and totally lying. Not because I'm a bad person. No sir. I mean, I **was **bad, but I'm trying not to be and, wow, guess I feel a little guilty. About lying. And being bad, too. But right now about the lying."

"You were much more coherent when Alexander was here. Maybe I should get him to translate?" J'Nal made a move to get up, but Willow's hand grabbed him by the wrist.

She studied J'Nal a moment, took a breath, and said, "I remember you know. Everything I saw. I remember it."

J'Nal swallowed hard. _Oh, hada. It's bad enough that Alexander and Faith know as little as they do, but she knows **more** and that can only lead to…_ He didn't even want to think about it.

It was times like this that he wished he could call on the various gods and goddesses for minor parlor tricks like spells to make people forget, because he suspected nothing less was going to wipe this woman's memory.

"Thought that would get you all at attention-y," Willow let go, looking mightily pleased with herself. "Don't worry. I don't know exactly what any of it means because it was like looking at all these little filmed bits like you see in those cheesy clip shows on sitcoms."

"I don't understand."

"Right, maybe they outlawed cheesy clip shows. Or sitcoms. Or sitcoms **and **clip shows. Maybe it's all reality TV all the time when you're from because FOX owns all the media outlets."

"I, ummmm…"

"Whoops. Sorry," Willow grinned sheepishly. "Do you have plays?"

"Live actors performing on a stage," J'Nal nodded quickly, relieved that he understood something.

"Okay," Willow's face screwed up in concentration, "have you ever walked into the middle of a play and not known what was going on?"

"Yes."

"Okay, now imagine that happening every ten seconds or so." When Willow saw he understood her gist, she continued, "So, all I've got are these scenes, but I don't know what's going on, what happened before, what happened after, or even when it happened. Just these disjointed scenes that don't make a lot of sense."

J'Nal stiffened. "I'm not going to explain them to you."

Willow looked a little hurt. "Not asking you to because I'm not sure I want to be all knowledge future girl." She looked at the door and bit her lip. "Besides, I think I've got a taste of what Xander's been going through and it's making me a little nauseous. If I **knew **knew? I'd be yaking everything I've ever eaten in my whole entire life."

"Yaking?"

"I'm gonna ask you something and I want you to be honest," Willow said, ignoring his question.

J'Nal raised an eyebrow. She didn't want to know about the future, she told him she remembered her glimpses of the future, she all but promised she wouldn't tell anyone that she had seen the future, so what could this woman possibly want with him?

"How sure are you that you didn't mess up the timeline?" she asked.

"I won't know until tomorrow," J'Nal admitted.

"Oh. Unh. Wrong question, I guess. What I mean is, if you find out that your timeline is a-okay, does that mean that everything remains the same between our time and yours?" Willow asked.

"I am fairly certain that would be the case," J'Nal replied dryly.

Willow nodded, not at all surprised or disappointed by the answer. "That's what I think, too."

"I really don't see…"

"Now, you and me, we're pretty sure, but would anyone else be sure? Say, Xander-shaped people, or say, any other past-shaped people? If, for example, you mentioned that just because you guys are all set doesn't mean we're set in stone, would anyone be able to say you're wrong?"

"Well, my teammates might."

Willow waved her hand. "Take them out of the equation."

"No," J'Nal said slowly. "A lot of the mystical and temporal mechanics are somewhat advanced."

"Too advanced for primates like me?" Willow's eyes twinkled in amusement. "You're probably right."

J'Nal swallowed nervously.

"But if you came up with a believable, techno-babbly explain-y story, everyone here, as in like now-here, would buy it hook, line, sinker, fish-in-the-skillet? Right?" Willow insisted.

"I wouldn't even know how to…" J'Nal began. He shook his head. "Why are you even asking this?"

Willow's eyes went to the door, mouth set in a firm line with that hardened expression back on her face. "You and me. We're going to give Xander's future back to him and put it in his hands right where it belongs." She looked back at J'Nal, voice going flat. "We're giving **everyone **their future back. It doesn't belong to you. It belongs to them. And by the time you, Catherine, Charlie, Ruda, and Tikri leave, the ball is back in their court one way or the other."

"But if the timeline is maintained it will be a…"

"Lie," Willow finished for him quietly. "But if the truth comes out, every time something goes wrong between now and 2008 Xander's going to blame himself for not knowing."

"That's illogical."

"Xander in a nutshell," Willow agreed. "C'mon, J'Nal. You saw him. He was blaming himself for me and Robin getting hurt when had no way of knowing it was going to happen."

"Shouldn't you be upset that he didn't warn you?" J'Nal was curious.

"Hello! Clip show!" Willow reminded him as she pointed at her head. "Plus, I kinda blued myself with that spell on the journal, so since I was all help-y about blocking the journal, that probably means I'll be talking him out of warning me about the temporary insanity with sound and lights."

As J'Nal wavered, Willow pressed her point.

"We have to do this. We **have **to. I won't watch Xander suffer over this or have anyone blaming him when things go wrong because he wasn't in the know. Give him back his future and let him live his life on his own terms."

"That will leave you alone, you know," J'Nal pointed out. "You'll never be able to tell anyone about your 'clip show' or the fact that the future will be what it was."

Willow looked down at the pattern on her bedspread. "I know. It'll be hard, but…someone has to and that someone has to be me." She looked at J'Nal. "I owe it to Xander, to all of them really. It's okay they'll never know, but they'll be safe from the future and that's what counts."

J'Nal could feel a smile full of wonder stretch across his face. This woman was going to protect her friends and family from the mystical forces that might destroy them without a thought of what it might mean for herself. Why he was surprised by this revelation, he had no idea. After all, this is what Primas did.

And make no mistake, Willow ca-Rosenberg is a Prima, even if there are no Prima to be had in the here and now.

"Tell me how I can help, ca-Rosenberg," J'Nal said.

Willow's eyebrows twitched a question, but that question remained unasked. Instead, a grin exploded across her face and she began to lay out her plan. "What do you know about the concept of 'alternate realities'?"

"You can't turn your own past into an alternative reality," J'Nal pointed out.

"**I **know that. **You **know that," Willow gave him a mischievous grin. "Think anyone else knows that?"

J'Nal hunched forward and listened as Willow began talking.

* * *

Faith leaned against the wall and stared at Giles's door opposite from her.

How long had she been standing here? Felt like hours, but was probably more like minutes. She couldn't tell.

She was exhausted to the point that she could practically feel the bags under her eyes growing to massive proportions. She wanted to knock on Giles's door, but Christ she had no idea how. Well, she knew how. Take the two steps needed to cross the space, lift up fist, and knock. Easy.

Except not so much.

All she could do was just lean against the wall, clenching and unclenching her firsts because…

Admit it girlfriend. You're scared shitless. This is too fucking big.

She's afraid that Giles didn't know about shimmy-shakes. She's afraid he **did **know and didn't tell anyone when Buffy came up with her crazy plan. She doubted Buffy knew, because then there would've been no way Buffy would've even proposed it. Probably. Maybe. B was running a bit on the weird side back in the SunnyD so there's no telling what Buffy would've decided to do if she knew about the shimmy-shakes.

Just the same, Faith knew her in her gut that B didn't know, but she didn't know if Giles knew.

Awww, hell. She's way too tired for this bullshit. She's not making sense even to herself. And if she couldn't sort it out, how the hell was she even going to talk to a smart guy like Tweedy?

What she needed after the fun and games of last night was sleep. What she got was a mess of nightmares. If there was any good thing in this, it was that the nightmares didn't feel like Slayer dreams. God knows she was an expert at telling the difference.

They're all over the house. She walks from room to room, stepping over the bodies of Slayers. Some of them are already dead. Some of them are bleeding from every orifice. She can't stop. She has to find one (just one god please) Slayer still standing to help her deal with the dead and dying.

Their weak hands are crabbing at her ankles, but they can't keep hold. She can see them shaking so hard that it's no wonder she can shake them off.

She walks into the kitchen and sees Buffy in a corner. She's vibrating so fast that (just like a cheesy horror movie special effect) her body's a blur.

They moan through the house: Your fault…your fault…your fault…

Faith jerked her head upright. Shit. She drifted off. "**Not **my fucking fault," she insisted quietly. Except if she were being honest with herself—and fuck, doesn't she hate the fact she is—she's just as much at fault as B. She may not have come up with the big plan to make 'emall Slayers, but she went right along with it and didn't say a peep.

Christ, at least Xander pointed out that the idea was insane before we all ran with it and he ain't even a Slayer.

She could hear the soft tread of footsteps climb the stairs. Too heavy to be one of the girls, too clumsy to be a Slayer.

Why speak of the devil.

The footsteps stopped and out of the corner of her left eye she saw Xander cross his arms and lean against the wall. She's not surprised to see him here. She knew he'd cave and go running to Giles. What surprised her is that hedidn't seem at all surprised that she was here.

"Don't fucking start," she said.

"Not saying anything."

She really wished Xander would stop looking at her. She wished even more he had something resembling an expression on his face.

She had nothing. She couldn't read a thing off him. He's a blank sheet.

"You're bleeding," he finally said.

"What?"

He reached out and tapped her left arm hanging down by her side. "Your hands are bleeding."

She lifted her fists and started when she saw that there was blood leaking out of them. She unclenched both her hands. Son of a bitch. Her nails had been digging into her palms and she was staring at one hell of a mess. _You'd think that would hurt._

A large hand closed around her left wrist and tugged. "C'mon," he said.

She let Xander lead her to the third floor bathroom by her wrist. He let go to close the door behind them and to start the water in the sink. About all she could do was stare dumbly at him.

When the water reached a temperature that Xander obviously thought was good, he said, "Give me your hands."

And fuck her if she didn't do just that.

She was somewhat surprised by his matter-of-fact gentleness while he cleaned her hands and inspected the damage. _What the fuck are you doing? I can do that shit,_ she wanted to say. The words got stuck somewhere in her head and didn't actually reach her lips.

Faith looked up at the mirror and winced. She looked like shit on a stick. Xander finished, looked up, and asked her reflection, "Want me to put something on the cuts?"

"What?" Jesus, she really was stuck on that word, wasn't she?

Xander reached over, snagged a towel, and began drying his hands. "The cuts. On your palms. I'm sure they'll heal in no time, but they're still bleeding."

"Leave it." Halleluiah. New words. Any minute now she'll graduate to full-on sentences.

"It's your hands." Xander was back to talking to her reflection again. He didn't look all that hot either.

"It shouldn't be us, you know," she said.

Back to no expression again. "Nope. It really shouldn't."

"Should be Willow, or Robin, one of the real braniacs going to Giles with this shit."

"Yup. It really should."

"We're the wrong people for the job."

"I know I am, but you're not."

She shot his reflection a glare. "You bailin' on me?"

That earned her reflection a tight smile. "No."

Xander turned, opened the door, and let her through first. She took the lead down the hall. Without looking over her shoulder she said, "You know Cyclops, you could pretend to be surprised that I welshed on the not telling thing."

"Can't pretend because I'm not. Surprised I mean."

Hunh. Apparently Xander thought she was a better person than she actually was.

She reached Giles's door, lifted her hand, got ready to knock, and froze. She couldn't do this. If she did this, everything would change. Well, more than they already had. Fucking Catherine. Fucking Charlie. Fucking all of them. She really didn't need this shit. She could walk away right here and right now and leave this shit for Xander to deal with.

Except Xander's standing right behind her and not at all fucking surprised that she was going to do this.

Xander leaned over her left shoulder to knock, but she stopped him. "No. I can do this," she said. When he stepped back, she gave the door two sharp raps.

"Who is it?" Giles's sounded somewhat distracted.

"Faith and Xander," she said.

"Come in." Giles sounded somewhat surprised.

Faith opened the door, let Xander through, and followed him.

"Oh, unh, we didn't mean to interrupt," she heard Xander say as she turned to shut the door.

"I'm merely recording what happened last night in my journal. Old habits you know. Although I suspect we'll have to destroy all the evidence that our visitors were here to keep the narrative intact for the future. Speaking of which, you're going to have start doing this yourself soon enough."

"Hey, you didn't tell me you were invited into the tweed-is-good club," Faith said.

"No time." Xander gave her a meaningful look.

"Right. Later," Faith agreed.

Giles was sitting at his desk, hands folded under his chin. He had one of those blank books open on his desk and from where she stood, Faith could see that one of the pages was filled with Giles's neat, close handwriting. The expression on his face was so pleased and amused by their presence that Faith wondered why the hell he thought they were there.

"Giles? We need to know…" Xander began.

There was something in Xander's voice that Faith could hear but couldn't quite put a name to that caused Giles's expression to dim into worry.

"Know what?" Giles asked.

Faith dove in. "You ever heard of something called the shimmy-shakes?"

"Shimmy-shakes?" Giles asked.

"Polgar Syndrome?" Xander clarified.

"Polgar…what on earth are you two talking about?" Giles was obviously confused now.

"It's a Slayer thing that we heard about from Charlie," Faith explained. "And trust me when I tell you, it's not good."

Giles sat up and regarded them a moment with alarm. "How bad?"

"Ever hear of a disease that attacks only Slayers?" Xander asked.

There was no faking the look of shock on Giles's face. "That's impossible."

Giles had no more fucking clue than they did. She could see Xander's body language relax next to her, relieved because he wouldn't have to deal with the idea that Giles knew it was possible and kept his trap shut while B laid out her plan. As for her, the spring in her gut wound tighter. If Giles had never even heard of such a thing, they were screwed beyond screwed.

"It's possible. Think Parkinson's for Slayers and that gives you the idea," Xander said.

As Giles leaned back in his chair and fought to keep his expression under control, Faith wondered if they did the right thing by yanking Giles into their exclusive little club.

"Tell me everything," Giles said. "Start from the beginning."

TBC…


	65. Spotlight on Kennedy

****

Part 65: Spotlight on Kennedy

Selected items from **UNS **Q&A session with **Kennedy Sunocci**, occupant of Taran United Watcher's Council building, pre-founding, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting.

History tells us that **Kennedy Sunocci **was one of the Potentials present in Sun'dayl at the time of the Empowerment Spell who went on to become an important member of the surviving band during the early years of the Cleveland household. She was one of the leaders in training the younger Slayers, helped with recruiting, and formed close relationships with many of the Founding Lights, most notably **Willow ca-Rosenberg** who took the young Slayer under her wing as a confidante and lover.

Despite her significance behind the scenes, **Ms. Sunocci **did not particularly stand out in the field. She occasionally took the lead in various battles, but more often than not seemed relegated to a lesser leadership role because of the significantly greater experience of **Buffy Summers-rah** and **Faith Lanoire-rah.**

What makes **Ms. Sunocci **_an interesting person for historians is that she was the only Potential present at Sun'dayl who actually quit active service as a Slayer, which she did at the beginning of 2008. Her reasons for doing so remain one of history's great mysteries. Some historians have argued that the death of **Violet Knowles-sen **a few months before inspired **Ms. Sunocci** to re-evaluate her life. Other historians, who are less inclined to be sympathetic, have argued that she walked away from her duty when it became clear that she would not attain the same regard in the eyes of her fellow Slayers as **Summers-rah **and **Lanoire-rah**._

First-hand accounts of the time-period are muddy. The only thing the records are clear about is that the leaders of Cleveland household were grooming her for greater things and that her sudden decision to leave took them by surprise. However, **Alexander Harris-rah** and **Lanoire-rah** in their separate journals expressed sympathy for her decision, the proof many historians cite when arguing that the death of **Hero Knowles-sen** was the impetus for her departure. Others were significantly less understanding, which has served as fuel for those historians attributing more selfish reasons to her resignation.

What is known is that after **Ms. Sunocci **left the confines of Cleveland, she joined a Taran global relief organization called Doctors Without Borders where she served as an escort for physicians and medical supplies slated for war-torn regions.

Although she was no longer officially associated with the Cleveland group, she did unofficially serve as an informant. Whenever she found any undiscovered Slayers or discovered useful information and objects of note, she would inform the household, using **ca-Rosenberg** as an intermediary to do so.

Everything we know about **Ms. Sunocci** after leaving Cleveland comes through references in the journals of others. During her "wandering years," as **Wise Rupert Giles-rah** phrased it, she kept a very low profile. Her decision to stay out of the spotlight is perhaps understandable, since the existence of Slayers were not common knowledge among the broader population during that period in Tara's history.

Ms. Sunocci remained active in global relief for ten years, until her convoy was attacked by unknown persons during a mission in a country called Ch'chenia.

There were no survivors.

While perhaps there is no official record of the impact her life had on others, one can't help but wonder how many people alive today are here because one Slayer walked away.

Was it an act of selfishness? Was it an act of cowardice? Or did it require an act of strength and courage to leave the relative safety of Cleveland and brave the world alone?

We may never know the answers to those questions, but perhaps **Ms. Sunocci **herself can give us a clue in this exclusive **UNS **interview.

* * *

KS: Hey.

UNS: Unh, 'hey.' So how are you feeling today?

KS: Bruised. Very bruised. And tired. And relieved. It's a very long list.

UNS: So, how do you like being a Slayer?

KS: The juice is nice but…shrugs

UNS: You don't like it?

KS: Why would you assume that?

UNS: You sound like you're not sure.

KS: Look, you have to understand, the Council—I mean the old Council—caught me really early. I was something like 10 when I was told I was Potential and started training for the big day. Anyway, I've known half my life that I was going to get here, so it's not like a huge shock for me like it is for some of the other girls.

UNS: confused That's a little old for identification.

KS: Maybe where you're from, but I remember it was like this huge deal for the Council. I mean the old Council. Sometimes they could identify a Potential and sometimes they couldn't. But they almost never identified them before they got their period.

UNS: I, unh, I didn't know…I guess…so how did they find a Slayer when she was activated? Scratch that. How did they find Potentials because it's pretty obvious there wasn't a screening system in place.

KS: thinking My Watcher…I mean, the Watcher I had back in New York before he was…shakes head Sorry. It's hard to talk about him. He was in London for a meeting when they were all slaughtered. I still miss him. It's not bad like it once was but sometimes I just want to turn around and ask him…sorry. smiles That wasn't your question. You question was: 'So what makes you so special Kennedy Sunocci that they picked you out of the pack so early?' Right?

UNS: Well, not exactly…

KS: See, my Watcher told me that they kinda knew where the Slayer lines were. Not all of them because a lot of that stuff gets lost, you know? Families move, or you think families die out, wars happen and all information gets cut off, that kind of thing. Anyway, they had a pretty good idea about Slayer lines in, say, Europe. Less of a better idea in North America and Asia. None at all for real hotspots like some countries in Africa and Southeast Asia. So that's how they could sort of figure out who Potentials were, by tracking families. But once a Slayer got called, no more hiding even if they didn't know where she was when she was just a Potential. The seers would go a little ape and start pointing at maps. Next thing you know, one Watcher was winging their way to wherever to train the new girl.

UNS: That doesn't exactly sound like the best system they could've devised.

KS: Like our system is so hot now? We've got so many Slayers running around that seers, and covens, and other Slayers don't even know where to look first. Plus, the Council records—I mean the old Council—were all destroyed, so we don't even know where to start.

UNS: You'd think it would be easier now that there's so many Slayers.

KS: Willow tried to explain it once to me. She said it was like during the day there's only one sun. Everyone can see it. It's got no competition. When you say 'the Sun,' everyone knows what you're talking about. You don't have to call it Sol or some other specific name because there **aren't **any other suns around. But at night there are a million stars and while you can sometimes pick out a really bright star or a really interesting group of stars, you have a hard time picking out one particular star and unless you devote your whole life studying them you probably wouldn't be able to name all of them, let alone find them even with a map. Plus, you have to look really hard because sometimes the thing you think is a star is really a planet.

UNS: So what you're saying is that when there was one Slayer, she was the sun in this universe. Now that there's many Slayers, it's actually harder to find them because they can get lost in the crowd.

KS: Bingo.

UNS: Is that why you're ambivalent? Because you're just one of many instead of the one and only?

KS: frowns At first I thought that was it. But I look at Buffy and I don't think being the One was such a great thing for her, especially since she was all, 'I'm the only one who can do this!' back when I first met her. Looking back, I think she was being unfair. Seems to me that she had a lot of people around her who could do lots of things. Now, it was true there were some things only she could do, but you have to wonder if having it hammered into your head that you're the only girl in all the world isn't part of it.

UNS: But she wasn't entirely alone. There was Faith.

KS: Yeah, but think about how Slayers got the job before May. Someone had to **die **if you wanted the job, right? Along comes Faith. She finds out that there's another Slayer that's blonder and richer than she is. Buffy, on the other hand, gets a constant reminder that she **died **just long enough for Faith to get the big nod. Oh, wait. I think there was someone between them. Anyway, the point is Buffy had to die for it to even get to Faith, see what I'm saying? That could not have been a whole lot of fun for either one of them.

UNS: But that's all changed now.

KS: I wonder sometimes, though. We're all Slayers until we die. It's just hit home, well, to me anyway, that 'until we die' probably isn't going to involve Social Security or collecting on the Slayer 401(k) plan.

UNS: Social security? For oh won kay?

KS: Retirement for the over-65 set.

UNS: Ahhh. Well, that's not always the case…

KS: Again, maybe where you're from. But we've got one Slayer who's died at least twice before she was 25. Another Slayer who's hit comaville and was out of action for awhile before she went off to lock herself up and stare at her navel. So, I gotta think that Slayers, as a group, probably have a pretty tight sell-by date.

UNS: grudgingly You do have a dangerous calling.

KS: See, the thing is, I knew this in my head. taps finger to temple Of course I did. From the time I was 10 I trained to fight, I was grilled in Slayer lore, I knew the whole thing backwards and forwards. I wasn't so hot on demon identification, but that's what a Watcher is for, right? To help you with the book stuff so you can do the Slay stuff.

UNS: You still haven't said why they identified you so young, I mean, at least by the standards of this time period.

KS: Part of it was because my grandparents, my mother's parents, were right off the boat. Straight from Italy. So they had a pretty good idea about my family, see? Also, the seers were 100 sure I was going to be a Slayer. I may have been a Potential, but according to my Watcher, I was voted 'girl most likely to stake' by the seers. They figured I was next in line right after Faith.

UNS: But Faith never died…

KS: And I just got older. By the time I ended up in Sunnydale, I was almost convinced that I never would be Called. Throw in that my Watcher had been murdered by those bastards and I was pretty pissed off at the world.

UNS: You wanted it that bad? Even knowing what you knew?

KS: Are you kidding? Half my life I kept thinking: 'When I'm the Slayer, things are going to be better.'

UNS: Things? What kind of things?

KS: shifting uncomfortably You know. Things. Just things.

UNS: That doesn't tell me anything.

KS: It's stupid. Even I know it's stupid.

UNS: Try me. I've heard some pretty stupid things in my career.

KS: slyly Including here.

UNS: Sorry. I can't reveal my sources to protect the guilty.

KS: Thought so.

UNS: You're getting off track.

KS: Okay. Fine. It's like this: my parents separated when I was young. My dad was a big ol' workaholic building up the fam business and mom wanted a husband instead of a mogul. So, it was one of those no-fault things. No good guy, no bad guy.

UNS: Must've grated. Slayers tend to like their battles black and white.

KS: shrug Maybe. I dunno. Faith does okay with grey, hell, she **is **grey. I mean, was grey. I'm not real clear on the whole story. And I have to admit, Buffy had a lot of people in her crew that did some pretty questionable things over the years, so I wouldn't say that's true when you look at the details.

UNS: But…

KS: Look, I know you think it's true, but you don't live with it 24/7, know what I'm saying? Do we like clear-cut bad guys if someone's getting Slayed? Hell, yeah. I don't know about you, but I can't think of anything worse than offing something that doesn't really deserve it. Or worse, someone getting killed in the crossfire, so, yeah, black-and-white for the Slay. Applying it to the rest of your life? Doesn't happen for people who aren't Slayers, so why should it happen for us?

UNS: Duly noted.

KS: As for my parents, well, happened when I was young. It was a good divorce, if there's such a thing. Shared custody. Mom stayed in the same town so I wouldn't be switching schools every six months. I could see my dad whenever I wanted and sleep over. So, it wasn't so bad. Even when dad got remarried and mom got remarried, still not so bad. Could've done without the stepsiblings, but, hey? What can you do?

UNS: doubtful So what would you want to fix?

KS: Looking back? No so sure about that. Looking back, it wasn't all that bad. I mean, there are problems and there are problems. I guess I was so focused on the problems that I thought they were problems when they were just problems.

UNS: Hunh?

KS: Mountains out of molehills.

UNS: Molehills?

KS: Ummm, small piles of dirt?

UNS: Got it.

KS: So one day, while my parents are oooing and gooing over the respective stepsiblings who are still in tadpole stage, along comes a Watcher to tell me I'm special. I'm like, 'Hah! I knew it! I'll show them!'

UNS: Show who?

KS: Everyone! That I'm special!

UNS: Just a general announcement.

KS: Well, not as much, because you have to keep it a secret, right? Although my parents knew. This Watcher figured that combined with the fact I was so young and that my parents were sharing custody he should bring them in on the act. Man, you should've seen their faces when they were told! I was special! Certainly more special than the stepsibs, right?

UNS: surprised Your parents were happy about this? That's very enlightened of them. Even in my time not all parents are happy with the news. We've had some instances where parents try to sabotage…I should stop talking now.

KS: Hate to say it, but that's not a big reveal. That sounds a lot like human nature.

UNS: surprised again That's enlightened of you.

KS: Yeah. Hard won. Getting to that.

UNS: You will?

KS: It's been on my mind. But back to the 'rents. They were surprised, but I thought they were happy for me. I mean, my dad! My dad does nothing by halves. When he goes for something, he goes all out, which is where I get it from, I think. He brought in only the best gym equipment into my wing in his house and made sure that I always had the latest and greatest. He consulted with my Watcher to make sure he hired only the best trainers, y'know, for learning different fighting skills. This one time, he brought in a sword master from Germany to teach me. Another time, he brought in this monk from China to teach me hand-to-hand. Another time he hired this guy who trained the Olympic archery team to teach me to use a compound bow. If my Watcher said I needed it, I got it.

UNS: But that's great! Oh, wait. What about your mother?

KS: Well, she kind of agreed I should move my main address to my dad's since that was where all the training equipment was. I could still drop in anytime I want, so nothing changed there, except…

UNS: Except?

KS: I could see she didn't like it. Which got me all defensive because, hey! I was special! I deserved the best! silence I mean, I still love my mom, but we…our relationship isn't great. She couldn't really deal with it then, she definitely is having a harder time dealing with it now that I'm actually a Slayer. She dealt with me being a lesbian like it was no big deal, but I don't think she ever got the Slayer part.

UNS: So becoming a Slayer didn't fix things with your mother.

KS: softly No. It really didn't.

UNS: So you were close to your father?

KS: I wouldn't say that. I mean, he did everything he could to make sure I had the best and greatest, but still a workaholic. Sometimes I think he loved his damn construction business more than he loved anything. chuckles Man, you should've seen him when he met Xander, one eye and all. They just started talking drywall and they were yakking for hours.

UNS: nods So Alexander is like your father?

KS: laughs Not even! thinks about it Hunh. Maybe a little. Except I think Xander's a workaholic when it comes to Slayers and not so much with building things, which is probably why…forget it.

UNS: So, your father really liked Alexander.

KS: Are you kidding? He thinks Alexan—I mean Xander—is a mini him. When he came to visit us when we first got to Cleveland he said to me afterwards, 'Kenny, that boy's got a head on his shoulders. Keep your eye on him Kenny, he's going to go far, just you watch. He may not have the book smarts, Kenny, but he's got the sense and the heart to go with it.' Then when I told him about how Xander saved my life back in Sunnydale, maaan. He's all about Xander. Always asks after him. He says, 'Kenny, if you had any interest in boys, I'd tell you to schtup him and get yourself knocked up before someone else realizes he's a diamond.'

UNS: laughing Oh dear.

KS: grinning That's my dad. Like I said, he never does anything by halves. When he loves you, he loves you all the way. grin disappears Funny how I had to become a Slayer to figure that out, hunh?

UNS: So one thing got better.

KS: Depends on how you look at it. See, Giles showed up on my doorstep when no one else was home. I was kind of moping, see? Because my Watcher and I had been talking and it was looking more and more that being a Slayer was just going to pass me by. My dad's all, 'Buck up Kenny! Your grades are good. We can get you into Harvard or Cornell. How about NYU? You'd like NYU. Don't you worry.' Except I didn't want to be just another rich girl from Long Island hunting for a degree. I wanted to be a **Slayer**. Period.

UNS: Your mother must've been relieved.

KS: Hard to tell. Like I said, my relationship with mom is not the greatest. I think she was, but being a Potential was something that we tended not to talk about.

UNS: I see. Go on.

KS: So, Giles shows up with other Potentials in tow and he gives me the lowdown. My Watcher's dead. There are Bringers on his tail. We gotta go. I leave a note, grab my cell, and take off with the clothes on my back.

UNS: How did your father react?

KS: I called him from the road. He's like, 'Kenny, come back. I know some of the best bodyguards in the business. What's this Giles guy going to do for you? Nothing. I can keep you safe.' And I'm like, 'Dad, I gotta do this.'

UNS: Sounds like your father wanted to protect you.

KS: Which was annoying. I mean, he spent years preparing me to be a Slayer, well, paying for it anyway. It wasn't like he didn't **know**, right? So, anyway, we get to Sunnydale and I do my thing. I'd call dad and mom every once in a while to let them know I was still alive.

UNS: They must've been relieved when you got out alive.

KS: Yeah. They were. I remember the first night after Sunnydale collapsed. We stopped in this hotel, so I called my parents to let them know they I was alive. They'd been going crazy trying to find out what happened. So, my mom's crying so hard she can't talk and has to give my dad the phone. My dad's, 'Kenny, come home.' Then I lay it on them. I'm a Slayer.

UNS: Why do I think this isn't a happy ending?

KS: Again, depends on how you look at it. My mom's still sobbing, so only my dad knows at this point and he goes really quiet. I tell him I'll call when I get settled, but it's looking like Cleveland right now. He makes me promise to keep in touch before then.

UNS: So what happened?

KS: We get to Cleveland and my parents fly out. Some of the other parents did too, I mean, the ones that survived any Bringer attacks anyway. My mom, well, you could see she was pissed off. She didn't like anything. She didn't like the other girls. She didn't like the fact we were still looking for house. She definitely hated Buffy and Giles. Xander she was convinced was a perv. And Willow? Fuhgeddaboutit. I mean, she did try. She tried so hard. I could see her trying. But she just oozed dislike ranging to hate about the whole thing.

UNS: What about your father?

KS: Dad was cool. He was checking out the whole deal. Spent a lot of time just talking to everyone to find out the long-range plan. He calls it due diligence.

UNS: He wanted to be sure you knew what you were doing.

KS: Exactly. Plus, I think he was worried that I was joining a cult.

UNS: So he came around.

KS: Even helped. He yanked some contacts back in New York who put him on to some real estate people here to help us find a place. Hooked Giles up with some lawyer pals of his to help track down Council funds. Helped Xander find some building inspectors to make sure the properties we were looking at were good. Talked to Robin about what he needed for training and helped pick stuff out. I know dad kicked in the down payment for this house since Giles was still fighting about the money at the time. He probably ponied up the money for the equipment we have. I know he stuffing money in Xander's pockets for some of our weapons purchases. Stuff like that.

UNS: Nothing by halves indeed.

KS: No kidding. Not that anyone complained. Faith and Robin took a gang of us and we gave dad a demonstration of what patrolling was like. Xander took him out for drinks a few times. Willow even gave him the 'my intentions are honorable' talk. Everyone made him feel welcome.

UNS: He must've been thrilled.

KS: I thought he was.

UNS: He wasn't.

KS: Well, I didn't get clued until the day he left, y'know? I was in his room while he packed just talking about this and that and he turns around and looks at me, y'know? Just **looks** at me, and he says, 'Kenny, promise me you'll be careful.' I'm like, 'Daaaaad.' He grabs my hands and gets on his knees in front of me and he says, 'I know you're a big tough Slayer now and you can break your old man in half by just breathing hard, but you're still my girl. I need to know you'll be careful.' It hits me right then what he's saying. He's telling me, 'Don't die.'

UNS: That's…

KS: Sad. I know. All these years…I'm an idiot. shakes head He didn't like the Slayer thing any more than mom. He was trying to buy my way out it. Give me the best, prepare for the worst, and hope like hell it passes me by. And when it didn't…

UNS: Worst nightmare come true.

KS: Worst nightmare come true. pauses Funny the things you see, you know? You work so hard to get something and when you get it, poof! It isn't what you thought. And you can't turn around and blame someone because, guess what, they told you all along it was going to be like this. Except, they didn't tell you that when **you **become a Slayer that affects more than just you. It's like finding out that Lois Lane stays up nights worrying about Superman. You can't look at being a Slayer the same after that.

UNS: So, things didn't get better.

KS: shrugs They didn't get better. They didn't get worse. It just got different. pauses My dad hugged me so tight at the airport when he left. I remember when he'd crush the breath right out of me when he'd do that, and then he'd give me a noggie while I complained. I didn't even lose my breath this time. It didn't even hurt, but I still complained about the noggie. Stupid the things you miss.

UNS: I don't understand.

KS: Maybe, deep down inside, I still just want things to be better.


	66. Giles on the Edge of Forever

****

Part 66: Giles on the Edge of Forever

The plan to get Charlie was simplicity itself.

While Giles sat there and tried desperately to absorb what Faith and Xander told him, the two of them were already debating a plan. Somehow they had reached an agreement without his intervention: drag Charlie in for further questioning. They even came up with a believable excuse.

While he desperately scrambled through his memory to find anything—_there must be something I'm forgetting, there **must **be_—that even sounded even remotely like this Polgar Syndrome, Xander was off to lure Charlie to Giles's sanctum using the excuse that Giles wanted an update on Willow's condition.

Faith stayed behind and nervously paced the room. She'd occasionally look at Giles with worried eyes, but didn't say anything.

After all, what could she possibly say? There were simply no words.

And he had nothing to offer. No comfort. No assurances. No nothing. He couldn't even pick up the phone and bother a non-existent Council to check its turned-to-ashes books for something in the record that hinted that such a calamity was even possible.

There was a knock.

Faith immediately positioned herself so she was out of sight as the door swung open. Against all reason, Charlie had bought the excuse. Giles wondered if the good doctor realized that Xander was looming behind him, standing in such a way that he could grab the man if he decided to bolt.

"Giles," Charlie nodded as he stepped over the threshold. "I understand you wanted to speak to me about…"

His greeting was interrupted by the sound of the door shutting behind him, which was Faith's signal to grab the doctor and roughly seat him in a chair. She easily held him in place by placing a single hand on his shoulder and squeezing slightly.

"Ow. Let go. What's going on?" Charlie protested. "What do you…"

"This shimmy-shakes," Faith stated lowly. "We've decided we need to know all about it. So spill or we make you spill."

"Faith," Xander said quietly from his position in front of the door, "he's not one of the bad guys here."

"No. No bad guy," Charlie fervently agreed with much vigorous nodding.

Faith didn't take her eyes off the doctor, nor did she let him go. "He's got the goods, though. Good enough for me."

Giles snapped out of his surprised paralysis as he realized he needed to take control of the situation and quickly. "Faith, do let the good doctor go. I highly doubt he'll be able to escape with both you and Xander standing in front of the door."

Faith hesitated a moment before reluctantly stepping back and joining Xander.

Charlie rubbed his shoulder as he looked at Giles with a confused, hurt expression. However, he didn't say anything, which was probably his wisest move.

Giles folded his hands and leaned forward onto his desk. "I heard some most disturbing news from my esteemed colleagues and I am very much hoping you might illuminate the dilemma I find myself wrestling with."

Charlie's eyes narrowed into a glare.

"It appears that Faith and Xander are under the mistaken impression that there is a disease that exists that is specific to Slayers." Giles kept his voice even.

"There's no mistake," Xander flatly said.

"Harris," Faith hissed.

Xander pursed his lips and squared his shoulders, but didn't add fuel to fire by saying more.

Charlie's glare collapsed into confusion. "But you know about this."

"I assure you, I know no such thing," Giles said. "Although I am not blessed with the resources of the Council, I am well aware of most poisons, toxins, and spells that are capable of killing a Slayer. However, to my recollection, there is no bacteria, virus, or genetic disease that can attack a Slayer and win."

During his speech, Giles watched the expression on Charlie's face transform from a look of confusion to one of out-and-out revelatory wonder. "You know about this," he repeated.

"As I explained, no we don't," Giles replied. "According to the information I received, this illness does not strike until 30 or so years after a Slayer is called. As far as I am aware the oldest Slayer on record was 32-year-old Jane Smythe and she was killed during the Blitz. According to my math, that is a mere 17 years of active duty."

"Day-um. Thirty-two," Faith echoed with admiration.

Giles could see the information soaking into Charlie's brain.

What he didn't expect was the doctor's reaction.

Charlie laughed.

Faith furiously took a step forward but was held in check when Xander placed a hand on her arm. The Slayer whirled to face him, only to see her temporary partner shake his head in an emphatic, "No."

"I fail to see the humor in this situation," Giles said tightly.

"No, no I don't suppose you would," Charlie said between guffaws.

"Feel free to share the joke. I am certain both Xander and Faith would be most appreciative."

At the mention of their names Charlie stood and bowed in the direction of Xander and Faith. "Well played, you two. Very well played." He was soon chuckling again.

"I am pleased you're amused," Giles said dryly.

Charlie waved it off as he brought himself under control. "Entirely my fault." He gave Xander and Faith a look that could actually be described as affectionately exasperated. "I forgot who I was dealing with. I should've realized."

At that statement, Xander went white as he leaned back against the door. Faith merely crossed her arms and scowled.

Charlie took his seat again and crossed his legs. Giles had the distinct impression that the doctor had taken stock and was now firmly in control from here on out. Even so, Charlie added with a sardonic grin, "That'll teach me to match wits with Catherine's Founders."

Giles cast a quick glance at the Founders in question—and yes, even he heard the capital 'F.' Faith had finally gone pale herself and her dark eyes glittered dangerously by contrast. Xander was standing ramrod straight, as if it took every ounce of willpower to stay in one spot.

"Actually, I have to be honest," Charlie said as he regarded Giles was amusement. "I thought you always knew about Polgar Syndrome."

"Why on earth would you even think that?" Giles asked.

"Ahhhh, you see, I am a proud member of the Key Medical Order, which means my area of expertise is Slayers and the people who work with them," Charlie explained. "That means I know everything there is to know about Polgar Syndrome."

"I don't follow," Giles said.

Charlie leaned forward with a conspirator's air. "You see, when the first case post Sun'dayl was reported, no one at the time seemed at all surprised by its existence. In fact, it was merely duly recorded that a Slayer had it. Polgar Syndrome is the name it was given in that very first report."

Giles lost the ability to breathe. He didn't dare look at Xander and Faith to see if they'd picked up on the possibility hinted in Charlie's confession.

"Yet, here you are saying that, as far as you know, there's no such thing." Charlie was clearly about to hammer it home, in case anyone in his captive audience missed it. "Well, you had to learn about it from somewhere, didn't you?"

Giles kept his eyes locked on Charlie.

"It appears, Wise Rupert Giles-rah, that history is right on track." Charlie relaxed into his chair with a confidence that Giles had not seen in the doctor since his arrival. Charlie added in a professional tone, "You ask the questions. I'll answer everything I can."

* * *

Three hours.

They'd held conference for three hours.

Faith and Xander were silent as Giles pelted the doctor with every question he could think of. Charlie answered everything completely and fully, even pausing long enough to let Giles take notes.

When Giles had finally run out of questions, Charlie stood and made the most astounding offer: any more questions about Polgar Syndrome and Polgar Syndrome only, he would be more than happy to answer them. He then excused himself since, as he put it, he needed to check on Willow, and swept out of the room.

Which left Giles and Xander and Faith staring shell-shocked at each other.

Xander was the first to speak. "We can't tell Buffy."

"It'll fucking kill her if she finds out," Faith agreed.

"She may find out about it if…" Giles couldn't bring himself to say, "If she lives long enough."

Faith's expression softened. "We'll deal if it comes to that." She bit her lip as if she knew she that what she was about to say would result in a battle. "We gotta tell Willow, though."

"No." Xander was emphatic.

Faith turned to look at him. "I know you want to protect her, but Jesus, we need every brain on this we can get and they don't get brainier than your bud."

"At the very least, we need to reach the Coven in Devon to see if they can help," Giles said.

Xander pinched the bridge of his nose and winced as if he had a massive headache. "If the Coven knows, it's a matter of time before Willow finds out."

"Perhaps not. Perhaps we can avoid it if we stress that she is not to know," Giles offered.

"Don't matter if we tell 'em or don't," Faith insisted. "We need her too much to let just her slide."

Xander wavered a moment and, to Giles's complete surprise, he relented. "Fine. But we wait until she's stronger. Telling her right now might not be the best thing we can do."

Faith nodded, as if she realized that this was the best she could hope to get. "You don't get to decide that alone, Cyclops. I know you. You'll be digging up excuses from now until Gabriel blows his horn to put it off."

"Fine." Xander sounded defeated. "How about we let Giles decide."

"Well?" Faith asked the Watcher.

"I'll inform the Coven first," Giles said. "I think it's best if we put off telling Willow until Catherine leaves, that way we'll be certain she's completely healed from her ordeal."

"But we need to get her on this as in yesterday," Faith insisted.

"I understand your urgency," Giles said calmly. "However, a day or two is not going to set back our efforts. Furthermore, I do hope you're not suggesting that the Coven, a Coven I might add that taught Willow the proper use of magic, will be unable to collectively come up with more questions for Charlie."

Faith looked mutinous for a moment before something in her gave in. "Fine. But if they got questions…"

"I assure you, I will be pestering Charlie," Giles promised.

"Fair enough. Fuck. I need to get some shut-eye. I slept maybe five minutes last night."

"By all means," Giles said.

Faith gave him a nod and she was out the door. Xander hesitated a moment.

"Giles," he sounded uncertain, "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

Xander looked helplessly around the room. "For dumping this on your lap. I…we…didn't know what else to do."

"I would have been furious if you didn't come to me with this," Giles assured him quietly. "You did the right thing."

Xander half-smiled at that. "You'd think that would make me feel better, but it really doesn't." He shook his head. "I gotta go."

Which left Giles alone.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he sat and shuffled through his notes, hoping against hope that he could find that one question that needed asking. The clock told him that it was too late to call the Coven, given the time difference.

Eventually the need to get up and just move drove him out of his room.

The change in scenery wasn't much better.

As he wandered the house, he couldn't resist studying the girls. Charlie had assured him that none of the Slayers would show any signs or symptoms so soon after being Called. At best they wouldn't see hints of who'd be hit for another 25 or so years, with full onset at 30 years.

He studied all the young Slayers just the same, hoping against hope that he could prove Charlie wrong.

During his wanderings he was able to hear someone making a lot of noise in the basement as they trained. A quick inquiry with some of the worried younger Slayers yielded a most unsurprising answer: "Faith."

His path also took him past Willow's room just as J'Nal emerged. For a brief moment he could hear the witch's clear giggle and how it was cruelly muffled as J'Nal shut the door. He nodded tiredly at Giles. "She'll be fine. She's playing some kind of game with Alexander and Buffy."

"Thank you," Giles said absently.

As J'Nal moved off, Giles could hear Xander's muffled voice say something. There was the sound of a sharp thwack, Xander's "ow" of protest, and Buffy's scolding response while Willow's giggle threatened to get out of control.

Giles leaned his forehead against the door, absorbing the sounds from the other side. He often forgot that the three of them were barely out of their teens. People their age should be just out of university and living in crowded cold-water flats with their forever-friends. There should be raucous parties with loud music and just a little too much weed available for the toking. There should be casual jobs until they stumbled into well-paying careers and even more casual intimate partners to share nights of open promise.

Yet, they had been somehow crammed into the roles of adults and leaders before their time by circumstance and—much as he hated to give credit to it—fate. And yes, he was now including Xander in that select company.

It truly wasn't fair that so much had fallen on their young shoulders, but then the world is rarely fair, he reflected. Yet, despite all that was asked of them, all three had borne it. Perhaps not well at times. Perhaps grudgingly at other times. And he certainly remembered kicking and screaming when insurmountable odds seemed poised to overwhelm them all.

But still they did it.

Because they had to.

Because there was no one else who would.

He stepped back and listened to jokes where he couldn't hear the words and pictured the laughter he couldn't see. They all needed this too brief moment to be children again. The adult world would be waiting for them when they opened the door and that would happen soon enough.

He turned down the hall, fully intent on going back to take another look at his notes, but as he passed by the room where their guests were staying he was brought up short by a soft, musical murmur that could be heard through the slightly ajar door. He hesitated a moment before inching it open and peeking in.

Catherine seemed to be in a world of her own, her eyes focused on some midpoint between herself and eternity. Her eyes were narrowed and her chin rested atop her folded hands she continued to murmur to herself.

For a moment Giles froze, transfixed by the silver language rendered in a near-alto voice. It was a language that promised that humanity's golden age was not in the past, as so many cynics might suggest, but in a distant time yet to come. It was almost enough to make him forget that the future, no matter how bright, still had its share of shadows.

Then again, he knew that. Everyone single one of Catherine's people told him that was the case. That was why they were here, after all. But the genuine happy nature of this merry band was enough to distract from that and focus everyone on the good.

Or maybe we're so bloody desperate for the good that we've chosen to believe in a happy ending.

He must've made a noise because Catherine's head shot up and she ceased speaking.

"I do apologize," Giles stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind him. "But I heard and…your language is quite beautiful."

He could see Catherine's mind mentally switch gears to English before she answered, confusion evident on her face. "It's just Lingua Commonality."

"Just?" Giles asked, unable to grasp that something so lovely could ever be "just" anything short of extraordinary. "I am curious about what it means, that is if you don't mind telling me."

Catherine slowly blinked as she thought about it, before giving up in a shrug. "I don't think there's a direct translation to English but it sort of means, 'I lay this upon you and your children and your children's children from now until beyond the end of time.'"

Giles leaned back against the door. "Sounds like a curse."

"Or a charge," Catherine leaned back, teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Honestly, though, I'm not sure anymore. I'm trying to work it out, but…" she shrugged. "I thought remembering to the Founders would help me figure it out, but it's just made it more confusing."

"'Remembering to?'" Giles asked. He shook his head with a chuckle as he recalled just who Catherine's Founders were. "I suppose you could ask Xander and Faith and see what they think."

Catherine's eyes widened. Her mouth opened—probably to protest, Giles thought—but only a slight squeak escaped.

"Don't worry. Xander's connection to you is public knowledge," Giles quickly assured her. "Unless Faith's connection also becomes public knowledge, I promise to say nothing. You'll find that I am very good at keeping secrets."

Catherine continued to blink rapidly as she rendered a shaky, "Thank you."

"'Remembering to,'" Giles mused. "Is that like praying?" To be honest, he wasn't entirely comfortable with the notion that someone in some distant future might be praying to anyone in this house.

"What? No. Oh, no. No," Catherine shook her head. "Nothing like that. I think. I'm not sure."

What we have here is, once again, words not meaning what they're bloody well supposed to, Giles thought. "Why don't you explain 'remembering to' to me and I'll tell you."

Catherine frowned in concentration. "Not sure I can, but…" She brightened. "I know. How about I give you an example?"

"Are you sure that's wise?" Giles asked. "I don't think you should be giving away the future to the likes of me."

"I'm not because this has already happened to you," Catherine grinned. The smile quickly disappeared before she added, "Maybe. Given what I know now? I'm not really sure. So how about a deal: I give you an example, and you tell me if it's true. Is that fair?"

Giles crossed the room and sat next to her on the loveseat. "Provided it's not about something that hasn't happened yet, then, yes, I believe it would be eminently fair."

"Right," Catherine said softly. She gave Giles a look that telegraphed that she **still **wasn't sure this was the smartest thing she'd ever done, before saying, "This is remembering to. It's about the First Battle of Sun'dayl."

Giles nodded and waited.

The Watcher Honoria took a deep breath and began:

"And the day came to pass when the Seven sent They-Who-Wait into hiding, along with the sister of Summers-rah and the one who was beloved by Harris-rah, for in those days, the Darkness was stirring in its power to erase the Slayer bloodline from humanity's memory.

"Once those under their protection were secure in a secret place, the Seven in their desperation engaged in ritual to call forth the First Slayer to petition Her for Her strength to save not just They-Who-Wait, but humanity entire."

Giles's eyes narrowed as he listened to the almost singsong nature of the recitation. This story was not familiar to him in the least. The Seven? Who were the Seven? And if They-Who-Wait were the Potentials, he didn't recall Buffy ever sending them into hiding. If anything, she tended to push them very hard on learning how to fight on the front lines. As for Dawn and Anya, since she was the only person who fit 'beloved by Harris-rah,' they most certainly weren't cowering in some secret bolthole while everyone else did the heavy lifting.

"And in the fire the First Slayer came unto them and She was greatly angered. 'Who be these foolish mortals that rouse Me from the Life After? Are not all answers to your ills in the land of the living?

"And the Seven were afraid, but they kept their backs straight and refused to show fear. 'The Void is upon us and the Darkness would consume us. Your Children shalt be killed and Your Life After shalt be for naught. You shalt be forgotten and Your Bones be left to dust.'

"But the First Slayer was not mollified and She thundered at them for their foolishness, for playing with forces unseen as children would play with a toy. 'The answer, if answer there be, lie amongst those who yet live, not in the Life After. It is not fit that you call Me forth and demand of Me My aid. I shalt not help you, for it is your world to save or not."

Giles shivered, remembering too clearly the spell that linked Xander, Willow, Buffy, and himself. He could still feel the murderous fury in the dreams that followed and how he couldn't escape the notion that the First Slayer was offended by the fact that three out of the four of them tasted power they had no right to taste.

Catherine didn't seem to notice and she kept speaking. "As the First Slayer laid Her refusal before them, Harris-rah protested, 'Then it is right Your name is forgotten and that Your Children be wiped from the face of the Tara. Let the living die. What are they to You? Let Your Children cease, for they are nothing before Your eyes. Let it be known henceforth that we are braver than You for standing before the Darkness. We fight, while You scold from the sidelines like a fishwife. We've no need of You, for You are nothing but shadow and dust."

Now **that**, Giles mused, _sounds exactly like something Xander would do, complete with moving his mouth without thinking because he's furious. Although I'm fairly certain that there'd be copious amounts of swearing mixed in with a protest that would be very much less poetic. _He had a feeling that 'Harris-rah' was going to dearly pay for that outburst and was curious about the price.

"As he shouted his defiance in the face of the First Slayer, Summers-rah and Lanoire-rah attempted to pacify him. 'Leave it be before She strikes you dead. We shalt find another way as She hast abandoned us in our hour of need.'

"The accusation angered the First Slayer and with a wave of Her hand, She sent the Seven hurtling to the ground, forcing them facedown in an attitude of supplication. Her eyes blazed at the challenge and great was Her fury. 'I have attempted to spare you the price of dealing with Me, but as you insist upon a Bargain, then Bargain I shall, but My price is not small.

"And the Seven trembled at the tone of Her voice and the force of Her power.

"'What is it you demand of Me?' she asked."

"Frankly, I'm rather curious about what we wanted myself," Giles murmured.

Catherine's eyes widened. "You mean you don't even know?"

Giles winced. "Not really, although I might hazard a guess."

"The Empowerment Spell?" Catherine prompted.

"Ahhhhh." Giles nodded. He was wondering what Catherine thought happened. Now he was about to find out. "Please, do continue."

Catherine's voice was less sure as she began again. "And Summers-rah said, 'We wish for an army of strong right arms.'

"And Lanoire-rah said, 'We wish that Those-Who-Wait be strong.'

"And together Summers-rah and Lanoire-rah said, 'We wish for Many where once there were Two.'"

Interesting, both Faith and Buffy are presented as making the same request, even though the idea was Buffy's alone. Giles couldn't help but wonder if the details of the story changed, depending on who told it.

"The First Slayer considered their request, moving amongst their still-prone bodies. 'If I grant this to you, what shalt you give Me?'

"'Our lives,' the Seven vowed, 'We offer our Spirits, our Minds, our Hearts, and our Hands.'"

Bloody hell! That damn well sounds like the spell we used to defeat Adam, Giles thought.

"And thus the First Slayer walked amongst the Seven and She laid Her price upon them. Of Wise Giles-rah…"

Giles started at the mention of his name.

"…she said, 'I charge you to use your Wisdom in service of Me, to be the Guiding Light for all who come after, but though you be the One Who Unites, you shalt plant the seeds of Division amongst all those who come after you and yours.'

"Of," here Catherine paused with a look of distaste before continuing, "Wood-rah she said, 'I charge you to use your Intelligence to bring forth and train Mine in the ways of Righteousness, but though you may give them knowledge, your heart shall evermore be hardened to humanity within my Children.'"

Well, that explains the dislike, Giles thought. _As far as Catherine's concerned, Robin has no heart. I suspect that makes him very much the bad guy in her mind._

"Of ca-Rosenberg she said, 'I grant you the Knowledge to awaken the Power within They-Who-Wait when the time comes, but henceforth you and all who follow you shalt be bound to the service of Me and my Children, wheresoever they may be.'"

It was then that Giles realized that he was going to find out who the Seven in this story were. So far, he had Buffy, Faith, Xander, Willow, Robin, himself, and one mystery member. The First Slayer was giving them something, but was taking away something in return. Truthfully, he was half-afraid what his own reward and price meant.

It was then that he realized that he well and truly didn't want to know.

"She stopped before Summers-rah and ordered Her Child to her feet. 'As you stand before Me, I give you My Weapon,' here the First Slayer held out Her hands and a Scythe of great power appeared in Her fists. 'With this Weapon you shalt awaken the Power and wield it in service of Me…'"

"The Slayer's Scythe," Giles interrupted.

Catherine's answering smile seemed to telegraph so much relief that Giles knew what she was talking about that he simply didn't have the heart to tell her that the First Slayer had nothing to do with the Scythe or its creation, that is, if Buffy got her facts right about where the weapon came from.

Cahterine continued, her voice a little more sure "'…but you shalt never be the source of the Power, for that is reserved to one of My choosing. And be warned: Should this Weapon be lost, I shalt retrieve it back to Life After and your life is forfeit.'"

Now that sounds like a prophecy, Giles felt his blood run cold. He half-suspected that this 'price' for 'Summers-rah' was much like showing the gun in the first act just so no one was surprised when it was used in the third. _I think we may well lock the blasted thing up on the off chance this actually happens._

Why did he have a feeling that locking the Scythe away would ultimately do no good?

"Next She ordered Lanoire-rah to stand before Her. 'I give you your strength, I grant you the gift of a true heart. As you have never been One, you shalt be known as leader and mother to the Many. From you they shalt draw their strength, from you they shalt see their example.'

"At this Lanoire-rah laughed, for she was greatly amused. It pleased her to hunt alone and it pleased her to stand solitude. She looked not at all favorably on the gift the First Slayer saw fit to bestow upon her.

"Her laughter angered the First Slayer, and She laid upon Lanoire-rah this curse, 'You shalt never wield My Weapon and thus there will always be those who doubt your fitness. You and your children and your children's children shall be bound to Me, but they shalt always remember that I saw fit to deny you My Weapon in your hour of need.'

"'And what is it to me? Let the Other have Your Weapon, but let me use whatever weapon I see fit,' Lanoire-rah said with good cheer. 'Give me a strong right arm, give me an enemy to fight, and I shalt see victory yet.'

"The First Slayer relented in the face of such spirit, and granted her one blessing, 'You shalt find allies in surprising places, and generations yet will bless your name. Use your gifts and you shalt never again walk in Shadow.'"

Giles couldn't help but notice that there was more emphasis on what Faith and Xander were doing than on anyone else. So far, Xander and Faith were the only two allowed to defy the First Slayer in the story, although near as he could tell such defiance was pretty much in character for both of them. _And once again, I find myself wishing to find out what someone who didn't share Catherine's beliefs would tell me._

"And so She came to William, the one they called the Bloody for his prowess in battle…"

"Spike!" Giles exclaimed.

Catherine frowned. "Yes, of course it is. You sound surprised."

"No, no, I'm not. It's just that he was better known as Spike and to hear him called 'William the Bloody' took me by surprise," Giles explained.

"Really," Catherine sounded intrigued, "I understood that he didn't take on the mantle of Spike until after Sun'dayl."

"After?" Giles swallowed hard. That could only mean one thing: Spike was still out there somewhere.

Catherine's eyes narrowed. "You're still sounding surprised."

"I'm just surprised at where you're placing the name change," Giles covered. "By the time we met him, he was simply 'Spike.' The moniker William the Bloody was reserved for musty Watcher's Chronicles. He was so known for several reasons, one of which he'd killed two Slayers before he met up with Buffy."

Catherine looked positively flabbergasted. "You're joking! He was a vampire **without **a soul with Slayer kills under his belt? And he was working with you? How? Better yet, **why**?"

"Well, by the time we started fighting the First Evil he had a soul," Giles weakly explained.

Catherine shook her head and muttered. "But you worked with him before he got…how did he get the soul? It was always assumed he received it at the same time as Angel and Drusilla."

"Drusilla?" Giles was shocked to his core.

"The Triumvirate?" Catherine prompted. "The Three with Souls?"

"I…perhaps we should not follow this line of questioning." Giles could feel his heart pounding. She knew about Angel, but he'd fallen into the arms of Wolfram & Hart so it was difficult to tell where Angel stood. He could easily deduce that Catherine believed that Drusilla had a soul, which meant…he didn't even want to contemplate what that meant. And, she knew about Spike, she knew he was a vampire with a soul, but knew nothing about his past.

He very much could see the appeal of 'don't ask, don't tell.'

"How Spike got the soul is a very long story but…well it does appear you know about the mystical ensouling," Giles weakly explained.

"Well, that explains…" Catherine began before she snapped her mouth shut. There was a flash of understanding in her eyes that communicated Watcher-to-Watcher sympathy. She wasn't going to give Giles any cause to say anything about William-who-was-known-as-Bloody to anyone. "I'm really…you know? I think I better stop right now because…"

"I won't say anything," Giles promised urgently.

"But…"

"You've already given bits away about the future, you know," Giles interrupted. "And I want to see how this story ends. After all," he suddenly couldn't resist a wry smile, "it appears I sow the seeds of dissention. Perhaps this is it."

Catherine opened her mouth and drew a deep breath. In that moment, Giles could see that Catherine was desperately curious. So much of what she believed was right turned out to be wrong and she wanted—no needed—to know if this one story, the story of how her world began, was what really happened or if it was a pack of lies.

So far Giles was coming down on the 'pack of lies' side of the equation, but something in him also needed to know how the story turned out.

"Or perhaps Spike has nothing to do with my 'price' at all," Giles gently pressed. "But the thing is, I really don't know, do I?"

Catherine looked down and studied her hands.

"Somehow I suspect that your story will not solve the riddle, and to be blunt, I'll be very relieved if it doesn't. But perhaps I can solve your riddle." Giles mentally crossed his fingers and hoped the dangling promise did the trick.

"I did make a deal," now it was Catherine's turn to smile wryly, "so I better stick to it."

Giles let out a breath. Catherine's curiosity won out over caution. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or relieved.

Catherine picked up where she left off: "And so She came to William, the one they called the Bloody for his prowess in battle, and She laid this charge upon him, 'You who have walked in Shadow shalt be My strong right arm, but who you were shalt be forfeit in the burning Light of the Sun. For in Shadow you have walked, and in Shadow you shalt fight to keep Night from claiming victory over Day.'" Catherine cleared her throat and added apologetically, "Ummm, that's kinda why we thought he changed his name from William the Bloody to Spike after Sun'dayl."

Giles looked up at the ceiling, "Perhaps he did change dramatically. We shall see, won't we?"

Catherine nodded. "I have one more."

"Yes. Xander." He resisted the urge to pull his off his glasses and pinch his nose. He felt unaccountably guilty about looking forward to hearing about 'Harris-rah's' punishment for telling off the First Slayer and accusing her of cowardice. It was too easy to forget that, as far as this story went, 'Harris-rah' and Xander were one and the same.

"And so the First Slayer came upon Harris-rah, and She ordered him to his feet. 'As you see fit to look Me in the eye and accuse Me, so I shalt see fit to look upon your face and as I pass judgment upon you.'

"And Harris-rah looked upon Her and refused to bend his spine, although he was sore afraid. 'If blood You want, then blood You'll have, but I refuse to say that You Destined that it be so. My death will be my own.'"

"Well, that very much sounds like Xander," Giles laughed. "Although I'm fairly certain he'd be saying the Yank equivalent of 'get stuffed.'"

Catherine giggled. "Having met him? You are definitely right." She settled down. "Right, I have to get through this part."

Giles nodded for her to continue.

"The First Slayer said, 'Your death is nothing to Me, and so I order you thus: Live, even if you would die. You believe you protect those around you with honor, I tell you that you have not yet begun. Only after you walk through the fire shall you be a weapon pleasing to Me. Your blood and the blood of your blood is now Mine to use as I see fit. You, and your children's children, shall evermore be bound in service to Me, as heart, hand, mind, or spirit, as I so desire. I lay this charge upon you and your children and your children's children from now until beyond the end of time.'"

Giles closed his eyes. He hoped he was reading more into it than was already there, but he couldn't escape the notion that this mythical charge of the First Slayer would be Xander's worst nightmare come true. In essence, the First Slayer just claimed not just his life, but the lives of all of his descendants, and demanded that they'd all be moved around some mystical chessboard.

Right then he knew he'd never tell a soul about this story, especially since according to Catherine's tale, all of them will be forced to pay the butcher's bill in ways that not one of them could ever anticipate or easily accept.

Frankly, according to Catherine, it sounded like none of them walked out of Sunnydale unscathed.

But then again, he already knew that.

"Her charges finished, the First Slayer became one with the fire and She challenged the Seven thus: 'Do you think Me still unkind? Do you believe I have turned My back on you? Thus is it ever when you Bargain with those in the Life After. Tell Me yea or nay that My price is acceptable in your sight.'

"And the Seven assented, agreeing to pay the price as She so dictated, submitting themselves to the Bargain She demanded.

"'Then go forth with My blessing, but mind this: I shalt hold you to your promises. I bind you now and ever more to Me and in exchange I shalt never abandon my Children again. Fear not, for what is curse shalt be blessing, and the price shalt be your wealth now and ever after. And when we meet again in the Life After, such tales you will tell Me of wonder and awe.'

"And with that final benediction, the First Slayer clothed Herself in flame and faded from their sight.

"The Seven could only stand in wonder and dread, pondering the meaning of Her left in their hearts. For now they had a chance at holding the line against the Darkness, even if victory was not yet secured in their uneasy minds.

"And so ends the Remembering. I tell this Remembering to you, so that you may tell it to others, that all may understand what once was and how we came to be."

Catherine and Giles sat in silence for a long time after that, each lost in thought.

'Rembering to' was nothing more than telling a story over and over again until you knew it by heart.

I was there at the beginning and here I am listening to the end, Giles thought. _How many changes were made to meet an agenda? Or how many details forgotten and replaced with details that seemed to make more sense? Would someone else tell the story in the exact same way? Or would it be radically different? Would there be villains or would someone be made to look villainous? Too many questions. Just too many._

It was enough to make him doubt every single thing he'd ever read in a Watcher's journal or in a history book. It was like someone had yanked the carpet out from underneath his feet and left him fighting for traction on a polished floor.

Amazing the changes 834 years can effect on something he was so intimately familiar with.

"That story," Catherine finally said, "is supposed to explain not just how the battle was won at Sun'dayl, but also why my family has always been so intimately involved with Slayers. Everything we've all done over the centuries." She chuckled ruefully. "I told Alexander that no one in my family has ever not been involved with this," she waved a hand around the room, "but I didn't tell him that it's because we've always believed that it was because the First Slayer chose us to do it."

"Maybe you're not entirely wrong," Giles said, desperately scrambling for something to make Catherine feel better, even if he couldn't find it in himself to lie. "Maybe we've all been marked by Sunnydale dying. Maybe all of us who were there were chosen to a certain extent, just not in a way we can see from where we are. Maybe it's something you can see only in 20-20 hindsight."

Catherine was back to studying her nails.

Giles knew that she just didn't have the courage to ask: _Is it true?_

He wasn't sure how long he sat there before he realized that every part of his body and mind felt numb because of the sheer weight of the future pressing down on him. He was bone tired and right now he wanted nothing more than to escape.

He stumbled to his feet and headed for the door, but Catherine's voice interrupted him.

"Giles?" she asked.

The Watcher turned around and saw her familiar-but-not-really face. He could see Faith's surprisingly expressive eyes and Xander's desperately wanting-to-smile mouth. The lost expression really had no place there.

"Giles," Catherine began again. "It really didn't happen at all like that, did it?"

Giles realized that he shouldn't have been surprised that Catherine did find the courage to ask after all. She was a Harris and a Lanoire. If nothing else, both Xander and Faith had a habit of calling bullshit on things that didn't seem quite right to them, even if they both could cheerfully hide in delusion when it suited them. The only difference was that Catherine wasn't sure what to think and, Giles suspected, she probably faced reality slightly better than her Founders.

He thought long and hard before settling on what he believed was the real answer.

"Factually, no, it didn't happen like that at all. But I do believe you have the truth of it."

TBC…


	67. The Oroborus

****

Part 67: The Oroborus

Ruda was one of those people that, no matter what, woke up in a good mood and went uphill to happiness for the rest of the day.

Some people might call that shallow, which only goes to show that some people don't know what they're talking about.

Ruda was just one of those people who have a basically honest temperament and a good disposition. To her way of thinking, life was too short, especially if you were a Slayer, to worry about every little problem. That was Catherine's job and she was welcome to it as far as this Slayer was concerned.

Ruda genuinely believed that she had the best life in the best of all possible worlds. She got to travel. She got to help. She had the best Watcher ever—although most Slayers when asked would argue that their Watcher was the best, even if yours was pretty good—and the coolest friends in the universe.

And she got to travel back in time and see how it all began. Not too many people could say that and not be called a liar.

There were some problems. No one could say there weren't, not even Slayers with a generally upbeat view of the universe. But problems could be solved and there was always the fun in winning just one more for the good guys. Problems, in Ruda's mind, were not problems so much as a minor bump in the road.

The source of Ruda's good nature was simple. She had unshakeable faith—the small 'f' as opposed to the capital 'F'—in certain things.

Ruda believed that life was a grand adventure and anyone who didn't see it that way needed to get out of the homestead so they could make more friends.

She believed that people were generally good at heart, even if they could sometimes be misguided and do bad things.

She believed things that didn't go out of their way to hurt people didn't need to be Slayed, but things that hurt people were fair game.

She believed the Grail existed and that it would be the key to beating back the Great Darkness threatening everything she held dear.

She believed the First Slayer was the beginning and end of all wisdom.

She believed that Hero Knowles embodied everything a Slayer was supposed to be, even if Hero Knowles was still just Violet.

She believed that Lanoire-rah-sen was the One True Slayer from whom all Slayers were descended, even if she suspected Faith didn't believe it herself.

She believed that Harris-rah-sen was the other half of Faith's soul, even if Alexander didn't realize it yet.

She believed that the Seven were true heroes, even if they sometimes did things that didn't seem hero-like, because they always managed pull through when things were darkest.

She believed in this time and this place as being the source of all that was good and noble in her universe.

And there wasn't a single futching thing she saw that had proved her wrong yet.

Holding all of the above to be true, an objective observer might wonder why happy, bouncy, shiny Ruda was in a foul mood as she guarded the Grail in a dusty corner of the brownstone's attic.

Simple.

In Ruda's world there was only one unforgivable sin: boredom.

And Ruda was bored. She was bored squared. She was the picture of bored. She was the very definition of bored. If she were Andrew, she might even go so far as to admit to being _Episode One_ bored. Although being Ruda, she probably would think that all of _Star Wars_, including the classic _A New Hope_, were comedy vids so she might've actually **liked** _Episode One _and _Attack of the Clones _had she a chance to see either one.

Viva la difference between the cynical people of today and the more innocent people living 834 years from now.

But to get back to the subject at hand: Slayers and boredom.

Anyone who has any familiarity with the world of Slayers would know that boredom equals trouble. If luck held, boredom might lead to something good. If not…

Best not think about it.

The point is that boredom was the reason why Ruda was tossing a priceless relic like the Grail from hand-to-hand in time to a nursery rhyme:

"Doctor, Watcher, Slayer, Witch   
Which would be, if you could pick?   
The Prima is spelling without any hitch,   
India's ease proves her soul isn't sick,   
The Key heals wounds with a simple stitch,   
Cat's watching and asking all with a stick:   
What would you be, if you could pick   
Doctor, Watcher, Slayer, Witch?"

This was all rendered in her native Indrian language, so the above doggerel is as close as to English as anyone could get if they asked for a translation. Which no one was. Which meant Ruda was alone. Which meant Ruda was bored, in case anyone missed it.

She hit the hundredth repetition without any problems, so Ruda should be excused if her mind was wandering and she was feeling vaguely hypnotized by the time she hit repetition 101.

Right on the line, "India's ease proves her soul isn't sick," she missed the Grail on the downbeat. It crashed to the floor and began rolling for the closed trap door.

Ruda scurried after it and scooped it up with a sigh of relief. Even though the trap door was closed, she thought it best to keep it far, far away in case proximity was enough to trigger paranoia in the rooms below. She quickly checked it over and allowed herself a small smile when she saw it wasn't dented.

As she up-ended the Grail to check the bottom, her heart froze in her chest. The base was hollow.

It wasn't hollow before.

It was flat and felt a little like clay and was a vaguely brownish color.

She knew this because she'd spent a lot of time tossing around that Grail.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…" Ruda mumbled as she began to desperately scan the wooden floor. It didn't take her long to spot the missing bottom piece. She snatched it up and tried to make it slot into place.

No go. It was as if the sealant had given away.

"I can't believe I broke it." Ruda was very, very close to tears over this. If the Grail failed to work when they got home, it would be all her fault.

She dropped to the floor in a cross-legged position and tried to force the bottom to remain stuck, but it wouldn't work. She suspected she'd have to exert a little more force, but that meant she'd be in danger of harming the Grail, or rather, harming it even more.

Realizing that she was flat-out stuck, she gingerly put the Grail down and pondered how she was going to break the news to Catherine.

Then she saw it out of the corner of her eye: fluttery, yellowed sheets of paper.

Hunh. That wasn't there before. Since Ruda had spent a lot of time in the attic since getting back from the tunnels, she knew that this was the case.

Afraid of causing even more disruption than she already had, she carefully stalked the paper until she was almost on top of sheets. After a few moments of uncharacteristic hesitation, she picked them up and began scanning the writing on both pages.

What she saw there caused her mouth to drop open and her eyes to widen as one thought happily danced in her head: _We're going home._

She quickly weighted the paper down with the Grail and scurried out of the attic to retrieve her teammates.

* * *

Catherine was incredulous. "You're asking us to **lie**?"

"I'm not asking you to lie. ca-Rosenberg and myself are asking you to lie," J'Nal corrected.

"One small problem: I'm not exactly sure it's going to work," Charlie pointed out. "After telling them about Polgar Syndrome, they'd have to be delusional to buy it."

"We might be able to fool some of them," Tikri opined. "I think we'll have a hard time fooling Giles or Dawn."

Catherine frowned at her. "What makes you say that?"

"Who's been doing the interviews?" Tikri asked.

"That's not answering the question," Catherine countered.

"Giles seems to have a habit of cutting through the schitzka," Tikri pointed out. "And he's very, very good at connecting dots."

"Talk high enough above his head, not necessarily," Charlie countered. "And let's be honest: this time travel stuff is above **our **heads. What chance does someone who knows nothing about it have?"

"Exactly," J'Nal nodded.

"Wait. First you say there's no way we can fool them, now you're saying it's possible?" Catherine asked.

"I'm just playing opposite to the end," Charlie said with a shrug. "I don't think it's real likely that Giles will be the littlest bit fooled, especially since I practically danced a jig in his office earlier today, but even I can see why he might find the idea attractive."

"You're asking me to lie to…" Catherine began.

"…your Founders," Charlie finished for her. "But they're also human and very young. You're asking them to carry a lot, maybe more than they're ready to carry right now."

"They're stronger than you think," Catherine muttered.

"Actually, I'm willing to bet that most of the people here will be willing swallow the lie," Tikri interrupted. "Who wouldn't in their shoes? I'm not sure I'd be happy if someone who I knew was from the future walked up to me and started telling me about things that hadn't happened yet."

"I'm just curious why you think Dawn might not swallow the lie along with everyone else," J'Nal said.

Tikri gave him a half-smile. "Dawn strikes me as one of the people who see a lot more than they're willing to admit to. She also has a tendency to see people, including herself, with fairly clear eyes. That's a deadly combination in anyone."

"But you think Alexander, Faith, Buffy, and that Robin will just go along?" Catherine asked.

Tikri shrugged. "Alexander and Faith seem to be good judges of character, at least based on what I've seen. The problem is they're too emotionally tied into this situation. Give them even a small out, they just might take it."

"They'll figure it out when they end up right where we said they would," Catherine said.

Tikri deflated. "You have me there."

"Buffy and Robin?" Charlie prompted.

Tikri took a deep breath and thought about it. "Buffy will grab it like a lifeline. She was very disturbed by what little she discovered and I suspect she'll use it as an opportunity to try and change things."

"Which may end up resulting in her getting that —sen title whether she wants it or not," Catherine said. "I still don't think this is going to work."

"As for Robin, well, he strikes me as someone more focused on resolving immediate problems, so he's not likely to think too hard about the distant future one way or the other," Tikri said. "He's a very intelligent man, but he's also a very goal-oriented man. Everything he does is geared to winning today, so I highly doubt that our lie is going to factor into what he does at all."

"What about the others in this house?" Catherine asked.

"The others in the house know nothing about themselves in the future, so it's moot point," Tikri pointed out. "They have no reason to believe us, but then again, they're not trying to escape the future either."

"Is what we are that bad?" Catherine asked.

"No," Charlie said as he sat down next to the Watcher Honoria. "Of course not. But look at it from their point of view. How would you like it if you got a letter from the future telling you bits and pieces about yourself, none of which you can ever see happening to you? You wouldn't like it one bit."

"Except for the part where it's proof we survive the Great Darkness," Catherine pointed out.

"Except for that part," Charlie agreed.

Right on cue, Ruda burst through the door and began bouncing around the room. "Hey guys! Guess what, guys! You're not going to **believe **what I found! Guys! Are you listening?"

Catherine recovered from Ruda's sudden appearance and inserted herself in the way of Ruda's happy dance. "Who's guarding the Grail?"

"Pfffffft," Ruda waved a hand. "If someone wants it, they're going to have to fight their way through three floors of Slayers. This is way more important."

"Important?" Catherine asked. "What could possibly be…"

"I got a leeeeee-tterrrrrrr," Ruda sing-songed.

Charlie raised a hand. "Anyone else confused."

"Actually, I got two letters and it's from the future and it's so weird Catherine you're not going to believe it because one of them tells us that everything is going to be all right and tells us how we have to tell everyone here that the future isn't the future and how we can get them to believe it and then there's another letter for everyone else that tells them that the future isn't the future and guess what Catherine they're both from you!"

Ruda expelled this news without a pause for breath, although she did attempt to stand up straight and deliver it in something resembling a professional manner.

It took a little bit for Catherine's brain to catch up with Ruda's words, but when it finally all sunk in she was ready to drop to her knees and praise the Founders that Ruda was speaking Lingua Commonality instead of English.

"Show us," Catherine ordered.

Ruda bounced out of the room with Catherine moving fast behind her. The confused trio of J'Nal, Charlie, and Tikri followed.

"Did anyone understand what she said?" Tikri asked.

"Catherine's the expert on Ruda-speak. Me? I just let the words roll off me until she calms down," Charlie commented.

In short order, Catherine's team was assembled in the attic and Ruda was shoving two sheets of paper into the Watcher Honoria's hands.

A quick glance was enough to signal that there was a problem. "Ruda, when did you learn Provincia?"

"It's written in Indrian," Ruda corrected with a sniff.

"I see High Prima," J'Nal said as he crowded in from Catherine's right.

"I'm seeing Haphaesian," Charlie said as he crowded in from Catherine's left.

"You can't all be seeing your native tongues," Tikri said. "It's one or the other."

"Yet here it is," Catherine said.

She could feel a slight prickle of fear along her spine as she recognized her very bad handwriting scrawled across the pages. One page was simply an open letter to whoever happened to see it. A quick scan seemed to outline J'Nal's plan, only with a few adjusted details here and there that, in a perfect world, made Willow's web of deceit that much more plausible. She noticed that it was merely signed with her first name.

"Catherine?" Charlie's voice sounded unsteady. "You haven't read the other letter yet, have you? Scratch that. I know you haven't because you're actually smiling."

Against her will, her eyes were pulled to the second letter, this one addressed only to the people on her team.

The first thing she noticed was the seals of all three major Slayer sects arranged across the top, followed by a second row with the seals of the Watchers Honoria and the Watchers Educationary.

It was the single, unfamiliar seal between the two Council seals that gave her pause. It said: "United in Hand, Heart, Head, and Hope."

She wanted to stop reading, but her eyes were drawn down the page.

You've probably read the other letter by now. That's the "message in the base" that Alexander promised in his false journal entry about Moscow.

Make sure you present the open letter when you tell everyone in Cleveland the Big Lie. They'll doubt you at first, but when you show that letter, they'll come around very quickly. I think holding this letter you'll begin to understand why it'll work.

The Grail comes from our time and for a brief moment it came home to us. I am writing these two letters in preparation for another team to go back in time to when that area was sparsely populated to put both Grail and guardian in place. The Primas have a stasis spell that will keep the guardian asleep until triggered by the presence of you, Charlie, J'Nal, Ruda, and Tikri. The placement team includes stone masons that will carve the necessary information into the walls.

Although in looking at the legends of old Tara in a new light, I suspect there might be an accidental detour in a country located across one of the planet's oceans before they land in the right spot. For purposes of keeping the timeline intact, we've opted not to tell the team.

That reminds me. When you get home, make sure you ask dad to open the family vault. You might be very interested in reading several journals hidden there. The existence of these journals is a centuries-old secret that has been passed down from one head of the Family to the next. When you get back, they'll finally see the light of day and the truth about Cleveland 2003 and Moscow 2008 will finally be known. The Wood-Stewarts also have several journals from the same time period and I recommend you ask to see those as well. Keeping these records hidden is maybe the only thing on which the Two Families have ever agreed.

Try not to break too many things after you read all of them.

(Side note: Cling-On is a fascinating language by the way. Be sure to look for similar "doodles" in Alexander's and Faith's journals. I don't want to give away more, but I think you'll be pleased to read them.)

"Wow," Charlie breathed.

"I'll ask for a translator lexicon for this Cling-On language before we leave," J'Nal agreed.

Don't ask where the Grail came from. To be honest, we're not entirely sure ourselves. Don't try to think about it too much. It'll only make your head hurt. Maybe when all is said and done it doesn't really matter where the cycle begins. The point is that it continues and that's all we need to know.

You've made it this far and that's good, but there's more work to do. It's not always going to be fun, it's not going to be easy, and a lot of things are going to have to change if we are going to survive. Those six seals at the top of this letter are not there for show, but represent something real, something **good** that came out of this. Remember that when things get difficult and you don't think you or your team will be able to survive.

But I can promise you that it's going to be all right.

There's so much more I want to say, but I can't. There's so much more I could say, but I won't. To quote what a wise man once told himself in Cling-On: that would be cheating.

The letter was signed:

Catherine Anastasia Harris-Lanoire-Wood-Stewart   
—Rah de Honoria vu Consul   
Senscha de Unitas vu Commenseal

"Catherine? Are you all right?" Tikri asked with a slightly panicked edge to her voice. "Catherine?"

"I think she's in shock," J'Nal said

"**She's **in shock? **I'm **in shock," Charlie said. "What are you doing with the Wood-Stewart last name attached to you? Your families can't stand to be on the same planet with each other."

Catherine let out a sound that may have been a half-giggle or may have been a hiccup, although none of the others were entirely clear about that.

Then she passed out.

* * *

Despite all the assurances they had that the future was going to be just the way they left it, Catherine still insisted between bouts of fury and depression that J'Nal do the pathfinder spell to make sure.

All in all, the other members of the team thought it was a very good idea if Catherine stayed away from everyone in the house, **especially** Robin Wood since they could all envision a nasty incident involving Robin, Catherine, a pair of scissors, and his bloody penis bouncing across the carpet.

Since they all suspected that even Alexander might take offense to such an attack, they insisted she stay in the attic with Ruda. The letters were spirited away by Charlie and J'Nal made sure to cast a sealant spell on the attic trap door just in case Catherine decided to "stretch her legs." This was done because Charlie and J'Nal were pretty sure that "stretching her legs" would involve stretching them in the direction of a certain tall, dark, bald, and bearded Watcher of their very recent acquaintance.

The pathfinder spell was very quick and didn't take a lot of effort, mostly because J'Nal was looking down the clear path from the past to the future…or rather his present. It was a good sign that the path back to the future was so clear, not just because it was final proof that history was lumbering along its well-worn groove, but because the anchoring spell was working exactly the way it should.

The team thought it best to wait until evening to make their presentation to the Cleveland household. J'Nal took advantage of the time by stripping both Grail and the letters of the spell that induced paranoia in the Cleveland inhabitants.

What was left unsaid was that the cool-off period would also allow Catherine time to recover her composure enough to face a room with Robin in it. Even so, J'Nal found it necessary to warn the Watcher Honoria that if she stepped out of line, he'd be forced to cast a puppet spell on her to make her behave.

With much grumping about how J'Nal didn't trust her and long convoluted explanations why she was very sure that her future self was just playing a nasty trick on her, Catherine promised to be her wonderful self, unlike that mean astraface who wrote the letters.

"Just don't kill him. Please?" Charlie begged on their way to the library. "We've come so far and I'd hate for our future not to exist because you decided to commit murder."

It was on this plaintive note that Catherine entered the library. She fingered the letter—the one that was to provide proof for their very unlikely story—hiding in her pocket. She did her best not to look at Robin, who was sitting in a chair with a gauze bandage wrapped around his head. In truth, he looked somewhat pale and tired, like he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed.

Willow, who also looked tired, sat in another chair while Buffy and Kennedy hovered nearby. Alexander stood slightly behind the trio of women looking like he was about to face a firing squad. Faith was in a corner, trying not to look nervous, although her twitchy body language screamed that she was half-a-step away from climbing the walls.

"The news?" Giles asked as the last of Catherine's people settled themselves.

"It appears that we will be safely returning home tomorrow," said J'Nal, who was acting as the group's spokesman. "However, something rather interesting has come up."

Alexander crossed his arms and Faith went very still, Catherine noticed. Willow, whose plan this was, didn't react at all, which Catherine saw as a huge mistake. Willow tended to make comments and ask questions during group meetings, so the fact she wasn't responding should have revealed something was up.

"It appears that you're not our past," J'Nal stated.

Alexander's eyes narrowed with confusion as he opened his mouth, but Andrew beat him to the punch.

"That's not possible," Andrew said. "Everyone knows that you can't change time because even the changes that happened were meant to happen. I know what I'm talking about and you are wrong, wrong, wrong."

Oh, no. If Andrew Wells can see through this, how in hada are we going to fool anyone else? Catherine thought with panic. It didn't help that quite a few people in the room seemed to actually take Andrew's outburst somewhat seriously.

"Andrew, I think basing your whole argument on Z-grade science fiction movies is a little fallacious," Robin said.

Catherine was introduced to a new sensation. She actually wanted to **kiss **Robin Wood.

"It is **not** based on movies, and those movies are **classics** by the way," Andrew sniffed. "It is based on a long, proud body of work that includes movies, television, and comic books."

"_Days of Future Past,_" Alexander said.

"Is that a code?" Charlie asked.

"It's a story arc in a comic book called _The Uncanny X-Men_," Alexander answered.

"Hold on. You're basing your whole argument on whether we're telling the truth on something called comic books?" Charlie asked.

"Comic books are power funnies," Catherine hastily explained.

"That's still pretty stupid ammunition," Charlie said.

Catherine hunched her shoulders and silently willed Charlie to shut the futch up. If they won this based on the strength of some power funny story, she for one was going to take it.

"I didn't say it was **perfect** match," Andrew said. "Besides, that was a clear-cut case of old Kitty possessing a young Kitty who lived in an alternative dimension because they didn't actually change anything. When old Kitty went back to her own time, everything was just the way she left it." This explanation was punctuated with yet another sniff.

"Well, if I understand what you're saying," J'Nal dove in with just a little too much desperation, "you've very much hit squalamus on its bald head.

"Squalamus?" Kennedy asked.

"It's this little furry animal with big sharp teeth and a bald head," Ruda said. "They're really cute and they're really mean. I knew this one Slayer that faced off against one and it bit her arm clean off."

"How big are they?" Buffy gulped.

"Oh, about this high," Ruda demonstrated by putting her hand down to knee level.

"Oh. So it's a targ," Andrew nodded sagely.

Alexander put his face in his hands, although Catherine wasn't sure if it was because he was trying not to laugh or trying not to cry.

"Sounds more like the Tasmanian Devil if you ask me," Kennedy mumbled.

"Targ? Tasmanian Devil?" Ruda sounded intrigued.

"Well, it's this…" Andrew began.

"Pardon me," Giles interrupted, "but before this goes too far a field into…ah…little furry animals one cannot keep as pets, perhaps we should hear J'Nal out."

"Thank you." J'Nal inclined his head in Giles's direction. "What I was trying to say is that you are something of an alternative history to our own."

"Yeah. We got that," Dawn said. "But you haven't said how you know this."

Well, Tikri called that one right, Catherine thought.

"It comes down to simple laws of the universe," J'Nal said. "Unfortunately quantum physics, Gropin's Law, causality, Calivius's Theorem, geometry, astrophysics, rotafulgum, and a complicated overlay of mystical energy all come into play that makes if very difficult to explain."

Considering that Gropin's Law was a about agricultural productivity yields, Calivius's Theorum was a theory about economics, and rotafulgum was a made-up word, Catherine wondered if J'Nal was even trying.

"I didn't ask you to explain," Dawn stated. "I asked how you know."

And once more, a lot of people were considering the idea that they weren't being entirely truthful about the alternative history story. Catherine just didn't get it. They were willing to take a leap of faith on the whole time-travel issue and in deciding to help them retrieve the Grail. _You'd think they'd grab on to the idea that they're an alternative history like a lifepod, but no._

True, she said from the beginning that no one would be fooled, but she didn't expect the doubt to start so soon. She thought they'd at least have a chance to make their very wobbly case. She wondered if her group was somehow giving away physical clues that they were lying through their teeth.

In the face of such doubt, J'Nal veered from the well-practiced script. "I was able to communicate with people from my time. It turns out that, against all expectations, they were able to track us and the events that happened around us. By comparing the mystical energy of our own timeline and the mystical energy of our current location, they were able to conclude that there were some differences."

"How big of a difference are we talking?" Willow prompted.

"Enough to register, but not so large that they can pinpoint that difference."

Catherine suppressed a smile while Willow's eyebrows raised in surprise. The original plan J'Nal presented was supposed to center on some huge event that would happen in 2008, but that they weren't sure what it was. Willow knew they were lying since this mess was her futching idea, but now she was in the dark as to the nature of the lie. That meant she was as lost as everyone else, something that could only be put in the good column.

"It may be something large, or it could be something rather small, so small that it might not make any difference to the final outcome," J'Nal said.

Willow's eyebrows disappeared under her bangs.

"How. Do. You. Know," Dawn emphasized.

"As I explained…" J'Nal began.

"We have a letter!" Catherine blurted out.

Her team turned to her, all of them with murder in their eyes. The letter was supposed to be the coup de grace, not the whole of their argument. However, Catherine knew if J'Nal kept piling lie upon lie, it was going to be hard to keep track. If they got caught out the situation could turn ugly.

"A letter?" Willow asked.

"A letter," Catherine confirmed as she stepped forward. "It turns out that there was a message hidden inside the Grail's base."

Alexander paled and leaned against the wall. "I forgot about that," he murmured.

"Forgot?" Giles asked. He shook his head. "Ah, yes. The message in the base that was supposed to be for us all. I quite forgot all about that as well."

"Seems to me that kind of argues against the alternative history theory," Buffy said.

"Yes and no." Catherine tried not to raise her voice to counter the pounding in her ears. "The reason we were able to get here is because up to the point of our arrival your timeline and ours are in sync. The change, whatever it is, will happen after we leave. It could be something big, like you recruiting a new Slayer that you didn't in our history. Or, it could be something really small, like you paint a room yellow instead of blue. We just don't know."

"Like the man said, could be something that makes our future wicked different or something that doesn't really affect the outcome at all," Faith said from her corner.

Although Catherine was a little surprised that Faith seemed to be the first to come around, she did her best not to show it. "Exactly. According to this letter," here she drew out the folded paper, "it's impossible to actually land in your own past. We should have realized it before we got here since all those things J'Nal mentioned, especially Gropin's Law, tells us this is the case."

"Then what was the deal about keeping the timeline pure?" Alexander asked.

There was a chorus of "yeahs" accompanying the question.

"We know it in retrospect. We just didn't realize it at the time," Charlie jumped in. "How's your agricultural yield this year?"

"Charlie," Catherine growled.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Robin asked.

"Charlie's making a joke since the theory uses agriculture as an illustrative example," J'Nal smoothly explained.

"Did anyone ever tell you guys that your idea of pop culture is just scary?" Alexander asked.

"They don't even know what a sitcom is," Willow said.

"And this is bad how?" Faith asked.

"Hardly seems to have crippled their ability to confuse the living daylights out of us," Giles dryly said.

"The thing is," Catherine raised her voice to get everyone's attention, "thanks to our trip back to the past, we have a new theory."

"I can't wait to hear this," Dawn said with folded arms.

I'm really going to have to revise my opinion on Tikri's ability to read people. Everyone is on the edge of coming around except Dawn. Catherine kept cool as she said, "The Grail has been circulating between the past and the present for…actually, we don't know how many times. Every time a team comes to retrieve the Grail from Cleveland 2003, they cause a change."

"A change that can either be large or small," Giles said.

"Precisely. At some point in the future, we will send another team back in time to put the Grail back where we found it and install the snake," Catheirne said.

"So, why doesn't that cause a change?" Thank the Founders, Willow was finally getting into the spirit of things by asking questions.

"Because the team manages to find a time when this area was sparsely populated and is able to avoid interacting with anything sentient," J'Nal answered.

Holy hada! This is going to work! Catherine thought as she saw the Cleveland group giving this very serious thought.

"From what we understand," J'Nal continued, "these changes, at least at first, result in very little discernable change in the outcome that results in all of us," he waved at his group to illustrate his point. "However, there is a cumulative effect."

"One change builds on top of another change," Giles explained.

"Okay. I guess I could see that," Andrew grumbled. "Maybe it is an _X-Men_ situation." He brightened. "Actually, it's probably more like a _Crisis on Infinite Earths_ situation."

"Crisis?" Catherine asked. "No crisis! There's no crisis involved."

"Let me explain for the geek-impaired." Alexander gave Andrew an exasperated look, "The general idea is that all these changes are creating all these alternate realities. At some point there's alternative universe overload and they all collapse into one another and form a single reality again. Sort of like the Big Bang in reverse."

"It's the right idea, but not entirely correct." If Catherine didn't know better, she'd think J'Nal was actually enjoying the give-and-take he had going while spinning their tall tale. The witch smiled as he continued, "The alternative realities will not collapse one into another since they can easily coexist side-by-side without causing so much as a ripple. However," here he held up a finger, "eventually the cumulative effect will reach such a point that one particular reality will entirely break free and result in a future that would be unrecognizable to all of us."

Everyone exchanged confused glances, except for Dawn, whose cynical eyes were fixed on J'Nal. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Catherine swore she saw a flash of bright, electric green in them.

"Because we don't know how many times the Grail has cycled between Cleveland 2003 and our time and because we don't know what changes occurred during the other cycles, we don't know how your future will change from what we know or even if it will change," J'Nal continued, seemingly insensible to the doubting Dawn. "Furthermore, this could be the reality that truly breaks free and results in an unrecognizable future."

"It's all here in the letter if you want to read it," Catherine said.

Giles held out his hand, forcing Catherine to cross the room to give it to him. She jittered nervously as the Watcher unfolded the letter.

"This is in English," Giles said as he peered at her over the top of his vision correction apparatus.

"We all see it in our native tongues and no, we really don't know the technology or mystical principles behind it," Catherine hastily said.

Giles grunted an acknowledgement, since he was already reading the letter. When he was done, he looked up with a small grin. "I can see why you're willing to give weight to your alternative history theory."

"Yeah, well, it **is **my handwriting and that is my name," said Catherine.

"Still no last name provided I see," Giles said.

"Maybe that's one of things that will change," she said evenly.

Giles gave her a nod as he passed the letter to Alexander, who crouched down next to Buffy. Buffy, Willow, and Kennedy crowded around Alexander as they read the letter. Catherine could see the beginnings of relief on Alexander's and Buffy's faces, although she wished Willow would stop smiling.

When the quartet was done, Dawn practically snatched the paper out of their hands. Andrew stood next to her so he could read it over her shoulder. Andrew occasionally let out a quiet "cool," but Dawn seemed still unconvinced. As she read, a frown line appeared between Dawn's eyebrows, almost as if she knew it was all a lie.

Faith was the next to get it, but her expression remained blank as she read it over. She obviously bought it, but Catherine had no idea if the Slayer viewed this as good news or bad. When she was finished, Faith did allow herself a relieved smile and, as she handed the letter to Robin, said to Catherine, "No offense."

"None taken," Catherine inclined her head.

"Looks good," Robin said as he read over the letter. "I have to admit this is a pretty solid case."

"I must admit that I'm rather surprised that you're willing to take our word," J'Nal said.

"Well sir," Robin said with a smile, "In the past few days I've met time travelers, looked for mystical Grails, and fought a giant snake using walnuts because **someone** mentioned the snake didn't like it…"

"Unh, sorry about that," Alexander said.

"So, really, my world? Not exactly on solid footing," Robin said without acknowledging Alexander spoke. "Swallowing one more impossible thing is not all that hard once you get used to eating your foot."

"Eating your foot?" Charlie asked. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Hey, Andrew. What's a targ? Oh, and Kennedy? What's a Tasmanian Devil?" Ruda asked.

"Something tells me you're gonna be sorry you asked, kid," Faith said.

"I hope the MemePad recorded all this," Tikri muttered as she punched buttons.

Catherine allowed herself to relax. Whether or not they bought it a hundred percent didn't matter. The point is they were willing to consider it and act accordingly. Much as she hated lying, she had to admit that Willow was right to ask them to do this.

She turned around to say something to Charlie and came face-to-face with Dawn. She had no idea how the girl managed to get so close to her without realizing it.

Dawn's expression seemed to indicate that she had a million reasons why Robin's "solid case" was full of hot air, but the girl also seemed to know that she was outnumbered. Catherine saw Dawn's eyes track to her left. The Watcher Honoria followed the girl's gaze and realized that they landed on a knot consisting of Alexander, Buffy, and Willow as they talked quietly amongst themselves. She saw Faith standing the background bopping her head as if she were listening to her own music.

Catherine suspected the obvious relief on her sister's and Alexander's faces were the things that convinced Dawn to not put more voice to her serious doubts.

When Catherine looked back at Dawn she saw the girl was intently watching her again. Whatever lighting they were using seemed to bring the hidden green in the Dawn's eyes because Catherine could've sworn she saw another electric flash. For some reason she couldn't name, she felt her stomach clench at the illusion.

Finally, Dawn raised a single elegant eyebrow and gave Catherine a tight nod, a silent promise that she would stop arguing the issue. At that every muscle in Catherine's body relaxed.

Catherine watched Dawn turn on her heel and stride over to Faith. "What's with the quiet?" the girl demanded.

"Doesn't affect me, does it?" Faith shrugged. "Xander's the big mucky-muck."

Catherine covered her mouth to hide her smile.

"You aren't? I heard a —rah-sen after your name, too," Dawn sounded almost teasing as she said this.

"Unless that shit pays cash, I ain't gonna worry about it," Faith retorted with good humor.

Dawn gave Faith's shoulder a friendly bump. The Slayer startled as if she was surprised by this, but she soon melted into a grin and bumped Dawn's shoulder back. "Guess I ain't the only one relieved, hunh?"

"You might say there's a lot of it going around," Dawn said with a smile.

Praise the Founders,Catherine thought in agreement.

TBC…


	68. A Final Word from Xander and Faith

****

Part 68: A Final Word from Xander and Faith

Selected items from **UNS **combined Q&A session with **Faith Lanoire-rah **and **Alexander Lavelle Harris-rah**, circa September 2003. Camlin Tikri reporting. ****

UNS: So, I was talking to Rupert…

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AH: Unh-oh.

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FL: It's all lies.

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AH: to **FL** Little over the top, there.

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FL: I'm a little defensive. I smell a hatchet job.

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UNS: No hatt-chit job. It seems to me that you've, perhaps, overstated your interpersonal relationships.

****

AH: picking at teeth Wait. Wait. Something's stuck…

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FL: Told you not to eat the chicken. Too stringy.

****

AH: pulls something from mouth Hunh. It's a hair.

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FL: Whose? peers at something in **AH**'s fingers Well, I know it's not Willow.

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AH: Yeah. Curtain matches the drapes there.

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UNS: Curtain? Drapes?

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FL: It's brown. Could be mine.

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AH: Nah. You and me were yesterday. Let me think…oh! It's Giles!

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FL: Fuck. You and Giles! When?

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AH: This morning.

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FL: Doesn't he just rock the bed?

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AH: You used a bed? What's wrong with the wall?

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UNS: Excuse me…

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FL and AH: What?

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UNS: I know you're having fun with me. Rupert made it quite plain that there was no…

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AH: Giles is Brit-boy. Tell him a fart joke, and he's all over it. Mention the S-word and he'll deny that anyone is having it.

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FL: Makes you wonder where he thinks babies come from.

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AH: Hell, I only just found out about him and Ethan.

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UNS: Ethan? Who's…

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FL: Yeah. Rupes gets all talky after the Big O.

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AH: Pillow talk. Could listen to that accent for **hours**.

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UNS: Excuse me! If you are **not **going to take this seriously, we'll end the interview right now!

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AH: But don't you want to set the record straight?

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FL: Yeah. What about searching out the truth and presenting it in a clear and reliable manner?

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AH: She can't take the truth!

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FL: Nicholson is my other god.

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UNS: Look, the issue isn't **me **and the truth, it's the **two of you **and the truth.

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AH: What about it?

****

UNS: All right. Fine. I'll play your little game. Bank robbery. Rupert said Faith never robbed a bank.

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FL: Bullshit. He's just trying to preserve my good name.

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AH: But he's wrecking your rep. You should talk to him about that.

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UNS: That's it. Faith told me that the two of you were planning to rob a bank. Something called the First National.

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AH: You didn't.

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UNS: See? He does **not **know about it!

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AH: Actually, I'm just disappointed.

****

FL: Disappointed?

****

AH: You're so addicted to publicity. I mean, c'mon. We're planning to take down a **bank **and split with the money. What do you do? You go blabbing to the press **before **we do the job.

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FL: Why are your panties in a bunch? It's not like she's going to sell the story to the _Cleveland Plain Dealer._

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AH: That's not the point.

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FL: hangs head I'm a media whore.

****

UNS: That. Is. Enough. **UNS **glares at **FL **and **AH** Here is your chance to be heard. This is your opportunity to speak to generations as-yet unborn. And yet here the two of you sit like it's a futching joke.

**FL** and **AH **exchange looks

****

AH: Ever see something called _The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance?_

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FL: Great flick. Really great flick.

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UNS: Is that like a vid?

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FL: shrugging I think so.

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AH: Anyway, the basic plot is this: a wild frontier town where the law is the law of the gun. This guy comes into town and he wants to bring the rule of law, as in real law, and civilize the town.

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FL: He makes friends with this one cowboy who believes in the law of the gun, but he's a good guy. The town bullies don't like it and the worst one, Liberty Valance, challenges him to a shootout. It's going to be murder because the new guy doesn't know how to use a gun.

****

AH: Everyone in town watches this with baited breath and they see the new guy shoot Valance. Valance drops dead. New guy becomes a hero, he gets the girl, he becomes a political bigwig, and his view of the future comes about, complete with rule of law and no more law of gun.

****

FL: You following this?

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UNS: I think so.

****

FL: Anyway, years later, the good cowboy dies and the new guy, who's now a bigwig, and the girl he won, who's now his wife, come back into town.

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AH: Waiting for 'em is this newspaper guy and he wants the whole story on why these important people are going to the funeral of a nobody.

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UNS: Well?

****

FL: Turns out the politician's whole life was rooted in a lie. **He **didn't shoot Liberty Valance. The cowboy did from an ambush point. No one ever knew. Hell, even political guy didn't know until much, much later.

****

UNS: So the truth comes out?

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AH: Nope.

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FL: Never does.

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UNS: I don't get it. Why not? That's the scoop of a century if I follow what you're saying.

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FL: No one would believe it.

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AH: See, everyone had believed one story for so long, that the real story didn't matter any more. It wouldn't change anything that came before and **might **ruin lives in the long run.

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FL: Great closing line from the reporter, though.

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AH: "When the choice is between the truth and the legend, print the legend."

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UNS: I don't get the connection between your, well, disrespect and…

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FL: Point is, doesn't matter what we say. People are gonna believe what they believe.

****

AH: stands Look, I really don't have anything to say. I don't know what you're going to ask, I don't know what you're going to write, and I really don't know if any answer I give is going to be giving anyone any weapons to beat each other with.

****

FL: stands People find all sortsa shit to fight about, so let 'em use someone else. Me? I call me Switzerland. Live and let live.

****

UNS: But how will people **know **who you are if you don't…

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AH: What do you think, Faith?

****

FL: shrugging I guess we should let the record speak for itself.

TBC..


	69. Childhood’s End

****

Part 69: Childhood's End

From 'Living History,' by Rona Goodkind-Alvarez, copyright 2072; published 2154. Reprinted with the permission of the Goodkind-Alvarez Foundation for Extraordinary Women, Cleveland, Ohio:

I am the last.

I never thought I would be, but I am. I suppose someone had to be last. Someone needs to stand up and bear witness to all that was, to tell people where they're from so they'll know who they are and figure out where they're going.

I am a poor representative of those Sunnydale survivors, and I'm not sure I can get it quite right. And even if I do, I'm not sure you'd even understand.

Let me tell you a secret: history isn't what you think.

What we read in books, journals, newspapers, magazines, any media at all is not history. Not really. It is just the end result of something that is written in the tiniest moments of life. History, real history, is when you spot someone across the room and fall in love. It's when a familiar face is caught in the light in an unfamiliar way. It's when Providence lifts you up on angel's wings. It's the blessing of grace, a brush of mercy, a grasp at hope, and faith that tomorrow can only get better if we but try.

History lies in the split-second decision, the stray thought, the caught breath, and the blink of an eye.

History is rooted in that greatest mystery of all: the beat of a human heart.

There is no all-seeing eye, no wisdom to understand, and no technology that can capture these fleeting moments that are forgotten by the human mind almost before they've registered. Yet the effect they have on us as those who lived them and the effect they have on everyone around us cannot be calculated.

What they tell you about history is nothing more than wish fulfillment; the human desire to weave a spellbinding story that imposes meaning on all those moments that got us this far. It's our attempt to find our place in the universe.

And here's another secret: everyone has a moment, the very moment where everything changes.

So many people—too many really—point to the day when Sunnydale died and the One became Legion as the moment when everything changed, when the history of our modern times began.

Bullshit.

What happened in Sunnydale was the end result of a million little moments. Who knows where they began and when they happened, but that is the truth. Just as what happened in Sunnydale was the beginning of a whole host of new moments that ended with people doing great, wonderful things as they faced great, terrible dangers.

If I had to pick a moment, the moment where everything really changed, it would have to be a week after we moved to Cleveland into the old headquarters. Everyone was bustling around, unpacking our few belongings, dealing with the logistics of starting a new life. The world was balanced in that grey twilight where everyone still hugged tight to who they were even as who they were going to be tapped them on the shoulder.

Violet and I were sitting on our bunk, teasing Alexander that we wanted our room painted pink with purple polka dots. He ranted in mock horror at the very idea, wondering aloud if embracing our Slayerness meant we'd lost all sense of taste. Next, he was quite certain, we'd be wearing red shirts and purple skirts and little white boots with six-inch heels. We giggled into our insistence that we most certainly wanted that color scheme for our room.

What actually made it funny was that we knew that if we really wanted it, he would've done it, making sure that every dot was placed just so.

Maybe you had to be there.

I don't rightly remember anyone else talking, just Alexander's voice rising and falling as he pled his case for sanity and our laughing, breathless voices adding ever-more details to the horrendous paint job we said we wanted.

Yet, I'm almost certain other people spoke. They had to. Robin was running around with clipboard in hand assigning rooms. Faith was sauntering through the rooms in that peculiar rolling gait she had. Buffy drifted through the crowd, her eyes not missing much even if she said very little. Dawn was working out the new neighborhood and her new school. Willow was setting up her new laptop. Giles had a phone glued to his ear as he followed up with his network about fixing Faith's paperwork in California and with banks on shaking loose the old Council's funds. Andrew was in the kitchen trying a new recipe that he promised would be more home-cooked and less institutional.

I'm certain we must've heard voices shouting, yelling, murmuring, sighing, giggling, saying all those things that people settling into a new life say, yet to this day I can't tell you what any of them said. What I can tell you is that the seeds of who they'd be were still dormant. Not the who they tell you they were in the official record, but the who they are in my still-beating heart.

This is who they really were:

Giles asking both Alexander and Robin to be Watchers, knowing that they didn't get along, but trusting them both enough to fight for what was best for Slayers and Watchers alike, whatever their differences.

Robin finding his true heart in Ondrea Stewart the moment she stepped into Cleveland to take up the position of Watcher; his sureness evaporating every time she looked at him with her brown eyes until the day he won her over.

Alexander, covered in blood and barely standing, charging a demon four times his size with sword drawn, determined to win because Faith's and Violet's lives depended on it, and the injuries he sustained to make that victory real.

A week later Faith begging Willow to tell her that she managed to find the antidote to the demon's poison that sent Alexander spiraling into violent fevered dreams. How Violet and I caught her when her knees gave out as Willow said yes and promised that he would live.

Buffy holding up her primary education teaching degree with a fierce, joyful light in her eyes while the rest of us hooted and applauded in the stands loud enough to shake the sky.

Andrew in his high-end, velvet-rope, L.A. restaurant wearing only the best clothes to greet his guests.

Willow finding a single slim volume while on vacation in Kenya that gave her insight into African legend and magic.

Dawn dancing through the house with her letter saying that she'd been accepted into the Cleveland Clinic's residency program.

And Violet, dear sweet Vi, hugging me close in those Cleveland sewers, on the verge of tears, whispering to me to stay safe and stay alive, even though she knew she was going to die.

These stray memories change everything about that one day with Violet and me and Alexander arguing about home décor. I know it didn't happen, but I can almost imagine Dawn checking our medicine cabinets to make sure we had everything we needed; Buffy riffling through a catalog of college courses; Giles keeping the peace with infinite grace and patience; Faith and Alexander trading good-humored barbs about their respective roommates, not quite daring to step from friendly banter to something more meaningful; Robin worrying about the need for more Watchers to lend a hand; Andrew theorizing about the perfect restaurant; Willow exclaiming over a forgotten book that had been packed in a box marked for the trash.

I know these things didn't happen, but I'd like to think that they did. And if I told you they did happen, you'd take me at my word because who are you to say they didn't?

Yes, I am the last and when I die a piece of the world will die with me. Living history will become just history, another story in a collection of stories about the human race.

But let me tell you another secret, maybe the greatest secret of all: the end of the story is never the end. It's only the beginning. The story goes on whether it's remembered or not.

So long as a single human heart beats, history is never about the past.

History, true history, is all about the future.

* * *

Xander woke up in an insanely cheerful mood. Andrew's nonstop chatter didn't shake him out of it, nor did the fact he had to wait to get a bathroom and shower. Hell, even the fact that his dirty laundry basket was holding all his most comfy clothes hostage until he got his ass in gear to do some washing didn't dampen his spirits. 

He grabbed some clothes and changed while Andrew eeeeked himself out of the room, leaving him to bask in general happy solitude.

It was when he gave himself final look in the new mirror to make sure he didn't look like a guy whose blind mother dressed him in the dark that it hit him:

It's going to be okay.

He slapped a hand over his mouth to smother the laugh bubbling up his throat. He didn't want to jinx it.

No, it really **will **be okay.

True, he didn't know all that much about him and what he did know? Best not to think about it. Stick it in a box for now and deal when the time comes, assuming it ever does.

The point was that they'd all managed to pull it together. They'd probably stumble, they'd probably make mistakes, and they'd probably manage to completely blow it on more than one occasion. But at the end of the day, they all managed to make it work. Correction. They **will **make it work.

Because they had to.

Because there was no one else who could.

There may be a few things about the future he **didn't **like, say a split Council or certain Slayer religious beliefs. And the shimmy-shakes? Yeesh. But J'Nal said the future, well, their future anyway, wasn't written in stone. Once they got Willow on the case, he had no doubt they'd find a way out of it. If there was anything he was going to work like hell to change, this was that thing.

Despite the bad, there was an awful lot of good to find, like the fact that the general population knew what Slayers were and they were okay with that, or that people in the know weren't always fighting alone in the dark, or that everyone—Potentials and normal humans alike—could choose what they wanted to be.

That's a world worth fighting and dying for, which means that maybe this world was worth it, too.

After all, the future had to start **somewhere**, right? Might as well start today.

As for him? It really wasn't that important. He'd find out eventually he supposed. That's what's called life, isn't it?

He stepped out of his room to the strains of music. At a guess, it was Vertical Horizon, which meant either Lisa or Susan were cranking it up somewhere in the house.

I'm all right, by the way  
Everyone saves the day  
Sometimes I feel it

He let a small laugh escape, not bothering to dim his smile. As Giles was wont to say: how very appropriate. He shook his head and bopped down the hall to the repeated refrain.

Send it up  
Ah, send it up now  
Send it up  
Send it up to me

And all was right with the world, even if only for the moment.

He resisted the urge to jump up, click his heels, and go on his merry way.

* * *

Faith was bibbity-bobbity-booing around her bedroom. Literally. 

"Salacaboo and mishagaboo and bibbity-bobbity-boo. Put 'em together and what have you got? Bibbity-boobity-boo…" Hell she was pretty damn sure the words were beyond wrong, not that she really cared.

And while Faith would never, ever admit to digging classic animated Disney, in her heart of hearts she felt like she just scored one big-ass glass slipper. She was pretty sure the feeling wouldn't last, but it was a good thing to feel for the moment.

Even before she got stuck with the Slayer gig, the one thing she could always bet on was that most days were not going to be Cinderella at the ball. Although if she were truthful, once upon a time she never pictured herself as anything even resembling Cinderella. She didn't believe in Prince Charming for a start.

But now she got it. She finally understood. Okay, she was sorely lacking a few crucial details such as, well, anything about her life-and-times as a legend in the making or whether she was anything resembling happy or was merely grimly brooding her way to redemption. And she still wasn't all that sure how she felt about squatting out kids, plural. And she definitely wasn't sure how Xander could possibly fit into **that **picture.

As for the shimmy-shakes? They'll beat it. She knew it right down to her toes. All the braniacs were going to get in on the act, and when that happened there was gonna be no stopping them. It might take time, but they'd get there.

But the upshot at the end of the day is that she did good. Correction, she **will **do good. All she had to do was believe she could even when life dumped her into the suck.

Just accept that some days were going to be Snow White eating the poison apple or Sleeping Beauty pricking her finger on a spinning wheel.

Some days you're not going to win no matter what.

But some days—say a day like today—you win even when you don't deserve it.

And if someone like Catherine was standing at the other side of the rainbow, well, that's a kind of happy ever freakin' after, right? Or one she would be more than pleased to accept at any rate.

She swung open the door and poked her head out of her room to behold a vision of Xander's back as he dorked his way down the hall to some pop tune. She grinned and folded her arms as she watched him halt, get his bearings, and begin down the stairs.

Oh yeah, I can't see it any more than you do, hun. But I bet it'll be a hell of a lot of fun finding out if we ever get from here to there.

* * *

Buffy sat on her bed, for once not feeling oppressed by the sounds of people moving beyond her door. 

In fact if she were being entirely honest, right at this very moment those sounds of life were…comforting.

Except for one thing.

This —senning thing, which it involved her, Faith, Xander, god knows who else…it had to stop. Ruda was a lost cause, a case of things going too far. Plus, she was going back to wherever she came from later today so there was no way to make it right.

But the girls in this house? They're not a lost cause.

This was one secret she was bound and determined to take to her grave because the last thing she wanted was to give anyone any ideas. No. She was going to do something else: she was going to make an Effort. She was going out there and she was going to get to know all those girls in the house and all the others out there in the world besides.

Besides, J'Nal said their lives were still theirs. All they had to do was grab the future with both hands and **make **it theirs.

Maybe if she were better about connecting faces to names, maybe if she knew something about all those Slayers, maybe they'd stop being just another crowd. Maybe they'd become people, fixed in her mind as individuals, the way they should've been right from the beginning. If she did that, she'd stop this —senning thing dead in it's tracks.

She's pretty sure Xander'll help.

As for Robin? She picked at her bedspread. She'll really have to make an effort there, too. Maybe she didn't always listen to Giles, Xander, and Willow, especially if they said something she didn't want to hear, but she knew she'd always automatically give them more credit for what they did because they were family.

Robin was someone new, an enigma and a riddle. She didn't agree with him all the time, which meant it would be good practice for her to actually **listen **to what he said. It was time for her to start doing that, and learning to do it with someone she didn't particularly like was a good start.

Yes, it was time to crawl out from out of the shadow of Sunnydale and walk with her friends and allies—her **family**—into the sunlight.

Faith was right: she'd been tragedy girl for far too long. Giving the old stink eye at being the Slayer as the cause for all her problems was her taking the easy way out.

Enough with hating life.

It was high time she started **living **it.

* * *

Robin was in the library and taking it easy just as the doctor ordered. Although a book was open in front of him, at this very moment he wasn't reading. There were too many thoughts in his head. 

He hated waking up in his solitary bed in a room that had to be evacuated of Slayers so he could have a place to sleep. He felt bad that there were now two rooms housing three Slayers, but the girls seemed okay with it. Giles and Xander were already scouting the neighborhood for available properties to relieve the overcrowding. As luck would have it, the owner of one of the neighboring buildings seemed willing to negotiate a sale price, but even if the stars aligned just right the purchase would take months.

Part of his current problem was he got too close to Faith. Her loss gave him a deep ache that thrummed every time he saw her. Although he'd caught her several times looking in his direction, she didn't show any signs that the loss of what they had hurt her as much as it hurt him.

Then again, he wasn't letting her know that he was aching. No matter how often he told himself it was for the best, some part of him actually agreed with Xander. He made a mistake and he should go crawling back and beg forgiveness.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He knew that if things had gone on the way they had he was going to run up against a crisis point. He would hesitate for fear of risking Faith and that would result in a body count that could include Faith, other Slayers, or innocent bystanders. The price for his own happiness was just too high.

In some small way, he envied Buffy's willingness to buckle down and risk the people she cared about when circumstances called for it. Lord knows she proved she could in Sunnydale.

He knew himself well enough that he was too weak to do the same if he was ever put in her shoes. _That's why she's a Slayer and you're a Watcher, which is the way it should be,_ Robin thought.

Giles was trying to track down magical books in Europe to help stock the library and having limited success. They needed someone to conduct transactions and investigate possibilities in person. The idea of volunteering appealed to him, if only because it would get him away from Cleveland for a minimum of six months. He hoped it would be enough time for him to move on from Faith and get right with his decision.

He knew he was doing the right thing. He knew it wasn't a mistake.

He just wished that right at this moment he really believed it.

* * *

Dawn swiped the bathroom mirror clear and studied her face. 

Normal girl, going to a normal school, living a normal life.

It was a nice face, a **public **face, but not a true face. Even she had to admit that.

If nothing else, this little misadventure taught her one thing: she'd never be able to walk completely away. Not really. Someone had to remind all those Slayers what they were fighting **for** and Xander was no longer qualified. She saw that look Willow gave J'Nal and she smelled a rat of epic proportions.

She was tempted to call Willow on it, but the look on Xander's face when he heard that his life was his—even if it was a whopper of a lie like she suspected—was enough to kill the urge. Maybe not kill it, but put a significant damper on it at any rate.

She leaned forward, pressing her nose against the reflective surface. Truth to tell, she probably wasn't qualified on the normal front either, but she was as close to run-of-the-mill normal as anyone in Slayer World was ever going to get.

So, she can't walk away. She can't stay put.

But there's always a third way, isn't there?

"Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief," she sing-songed.

God knows Slayers probably could use good lawyers since she was pretty sure sooner or later they'd be crossing the local law, but it lacked…something. It didn't sit right in the pit of her stomach.

But a **doctor**, well, that idea had possibilities, didn't it?

They also have a medic. I don't know about you, but the fact that they've got someone actually trained to take care of the ouchies? Puts them one up on us. We've **never **had a doctor in our pocket, which is really stupid because it's a really good idea.

"Yeah," Dawn nodded at the mirror agreeing with the Voice of Xander in her head. "That has definite possibilities."

She drew herself up, gave her reflection a serious look, and practiced, "Good morning, Ms. Smith. I'm Dr. Dawn Summers. Let's see what we can do to cure your cancer because I've discovered the secret to all healing in my research lab. You'll be dancing at your son's wedding yet, Ms. Smith. Just you wait and see."

Unable to hold her imitation of an _ER_-type doctor face, she collapsed into giggles.

She tied her hair back, still laughing at her backslide into fantasies that only an 8-year-old kid can have when the world is an open book and the last chapter hasn't yet been written.

Yet, the moment didn't pass, remaining stuck in her mind as she gave herself a final check in the bathroom mirror.

"Heh. Make way for Dr. Dawn Summers," she good-naturedly grumbled to herself, as she opened the bathroom door. A blast of music from some male singer telling her that everyone saves the day brushed past her hearing.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "But **first** I have to pass chemistry and that class **sucks**."

* * *

Vi bit at her nails and allowed herself second, third, fourth, and fifth thoughts. 

But Rona's email was pretty clear. They had to get to him before anyone else did. She had to seize the moment.

She spotted Xander bopping down the stairs and quickly got to her feet. "H-h-h-ey!"

Xander gave a tiny, surprised jump as his feet hit the ground floor. The end result was him smacking against a wall while he clutched his chest. "You scared the hell out of me!"

Vi started giggling. "Sorry. Ummmm, you got a sec?"

"Sure."

Vi indicated the sofa and Xander complied. "S'up?" he asked as he sat down.

Vi took her seat. "I, unh, heard from Rona."

"How's she doing?" He's at attention now, concern creasing his features.

"Good, I mean, good as can be. Actually, she said she'll be back in a couple of days since, you know, her parents were there too, and they kinda all talked. Her parents are still getting used to the idea that both she and Michael are heroes an' all. Although Rona said she and her brother don't feellike they're heroes, no matter what their parents say."

"Well, they are. Both of them," Xander said quietly.

Vi could feel herself blush, especially since she was pretty sure Xander'd say the same thing about her. "Well, you know how it is because, ummm, it's more about doing the right thing than being a hero, which is kinda what I learned from Ruda and it's kinda what Rona learned from Michael, although she totally credits her parents, too."

Xander leaned back against the armrest looking genuinely happy that she and Rona came up with their own reasons for why they'll be fighting. "Rona shouldn't feel like she needs to come back right away."

"She wants to," Vi assured him. "She had time with her family and they all got to sit down and talk, I mean really talk, about Michael going overseas and Rona being a Slayer. She feels really good about everything and…well…I guess she's just ready to come back."

Xander nodded. "Well, tell Rona to let us know about her flight so we can pick her up." He hesitated a moment and in a lowered tone, added, "Tell Rona not to worry. It'll work out okay."

Vi's eyes narrowed and Xander…

He winked.

He honestly winked.

He **did **know something.

Michael was going to come home. She knew it in her bones. _Thank you Xander!_

As he began hauling himself off the couch, Vi remembered why she needed to talk to him in the first place. "Wait, wait! Before I forget! Rona and me, we, ummmm, wanted to ask you something?"

He dropped back into his seat, but she noticed he was a little more guarded. "What is it?"

"Well, ummm…" Vi took a deep breath and somehow got out, "Ronaandmeweweretalkingandwe'dlikeyoutobeourWatcherifthat'sokaywithyou."

Whatever Xander was expecting, he obviously wasn't expecting **that**. "I, unh, but…I mean…" There was definite blushing to go with the stammering. "Are you sure? I mean, don't you think someone else…"

"We both want you." Vi was surer than ever that this was the right thing.

Xander squirmed. Maybe he didn'twant to be their Watcher. "Vi, look, I'm game if you are, but I'm not sure if that's how it's supposed to work. I think one gets assigned and last I checked the deal is was one Watcher per Slayer."

"But right now there really **aren't **any Watchers, 'cept Giles and you and Robin." Vi was relieved. Xander was being logic man, not trying to say no thanks in a polite way. "So until we get more it's probably going to be one Watcher to however many Slayers in the house who want that person, right?"

"I guess," Xander agreed hesitantly. "But I'm pretty sure that you don't get to chose your Watcher."

"Why not?" Vi was curious. "It's not like we have a whole lot of people to choose from, and even if we did we both think that you're the best one for us. Just because it was like that before doesn't mean it has to be like that **now**. Plus, Ruda told us that it's the **Watchers** who are Called by the First Slayer to go into the field. The Slayers, I mean Potentials, get the choice. So, since we don't have a direct line to the First Slayer, why can'tRona and me pick you?"

Xander blinked at her as a smile fought to break free. Then he did the oddest thing. He looked up at the ceiling and addressed someone unseen, "You're **really **not letting me get out of this, are you?" He shook his head with a chuckle and looked at Vi, his expression radiating amusement. "I know when I'm beat. Fine. You win. But," he held up a finger, "we talkto Giles first, see what he says. If he agrees, you've got yourself one Watcher. Deal?"

"Deal." Vi fought the urge to do a little victory dance.

"One more thing. I think I should team up with one of our resident don't-really-need-a-Watcher-unless-it's-on-paper-only senior Slayers to give you and Rona more one-on-one attention and work with me on combat training. I'll ask Buffy…"

"Faith," Vi blurted out.

"Faith?" Xander looked like the wind had been taken right out of his sails, "Why…"

"Well, it's nothing against Buffy. Sort of. But it's just as much me as anything else," Vi admitted. "It's just that I know Buffy isn't…well…she's not like she was in Sunnydale and all, but…see, the thing is I know every time Buffy'd tell me to do something I'd kind of resent it and I might do something stupid just to prove her wrong. Next thing you know, I'm out drinking, smoking, carousing with strange men in bars, and getting tattoos just because Buffy said I shouldn't."

Xander blinked at her. "So you honestly believe going **with **the Slayer who actually drinks, smokes, has been known to carouse with strange men, and has tattoos is a way to avoid that?"

"Well, yeah, it doesn't make a lot of sense if you put it **that **way," Vi admitted. "But the thing is, I never wanted to staple Faith's mouth shut just because sounds were coming out of it."

Xander rubbed his head like he had a monster headache. "Faith? As my official partner in crime? Faith?"

"I'll try to do better and get to know Buffy," Vi promised. "But I'd rather work with Faith for now."

"Faith." He sounded almost resigned. This time when he looked back up at the ceiling he said to the unseen someone, "You realize I'm going to fight you every step of the way on this one, right? And just for the record, this time I'm going to win."

"If you really don't want to do it…"

Xander sighed and looked back at her. "No. No. It's okay. I'll deal. I don't have to love your reasons, but even I have to admit they're good ones. Fine. We'll bring Faith in on it, but if she says no that's the end of it."

"Fair enough," Vi nodded.

Xander stood and brushed off his jeans. "Well, looks like we have a sendoff to get ready for. You coming?"

Vi saluted and hopped off the couch. This conversation went way better than she could've ever imagined. Rona will be **psyched**.

As the walked across the living room, Xander reached out and touched her shoulder. Vi turned around and looked up at him.

"Vi?" He shifted a little. "Thanks."

"For what?"

He shrugged with a smile. "Just thanks."

_

* * *

Have you ever looked at your hand? I mean **really **looked at your hand and noticed that it was so hand-y? _

Clichés are clichés because they're true, Willow reflected as she considered her not-at-all-blood-covered hand. It's one thing to watch some bad sitcom where all the characters ate the spiked brownies. You laugh in anticipation because you just know someone's going to be talking about the hand.

But she remembered her and Amy at Rack's expanding their minds using magics from a darker place. With the universe laid out in swirling patterns of color, what did they focus on? The tiny things. With borrowed power flowing through them, Willow remembered having that stupid hand conversation.

What was I? Bad enough.

Who am I? She thought she was okay. Not a saint, true, but she wanted to believe that she turned out okay, all things considering.

But as to who she will be? That question still seemed open for debate. Waaaay, too open for comfort, if she wanted to be honest.

Consider the hand and its tangle of lines. They're just tangle-y and line-y. Perfect for…

…capturing and holding the blood until it burned your skin like a scarlet letter.

She's walking a fine line here. She let J'Nal believe she knew more than she did, but she knew more than she ever wanted to about herself, the people she loved, and the future.

Her memories were all feelings and knotted thoughts punctuated with moments of clarity; swirls and colors that freeze for just a moment in crystal clear visions.

Like a blood-covered hand…

…a moment of loss…

…and Faith's pale face hanging over her as the Slayer said, "I remember this."

The true moment of clarity happened in that instant when the Faith's clean hands clutched her dirty one, when Faith's voice swore that it would be all right.

There are other pinpoints of clarity. A moment of rage with dark power flowing through her that felt something like hate and an awful lot like vengeance. A moment of pleasure with hands, lips, and tongues playing over her body. A moment of pure joy in seeing faces she'd never thought she'd see again. A moment of sadness as she clutched the most beautiful sword she'd ever seen in shaky, frail hands.

What it all meant, she had no idea. At least she told J'Nal that much of the truth: without the before and after, she's clueless. These moments of clarity are nothing more than points in some crazy connect-the-dots with no pattern and, very important, no numbers to tell her which point came first.

As for the rest? It was all a barely-remembered dream.

God, poor Xander. She understood—maybe even better than he did if only because she saw more—the real horror of knowing just enough without understanding any of it.

As she stared at the backyard, she saw Vi and Xander leaving the house. They were easily talking back and forth. They already had the kind of rapport that only the best Slayer-Watcher teams can hope to have.

Oh, god. She just remembered something else.

Willow clutched the windowsill tight and swallowed hard. She could shout a warning. All she had to do was open the window and scream it: _Vi, don't go!_

The problem was this: she wasn't sure where Vi wasn't supposed to go or what Vi wasn't supposed do. All she knew was that when the Slayer did it, she'd be dead. It was going to happen too soon, even if she didn't know the exact when.

Willow clenched her jaw and closed her eyes against the sunlight. She wasn't surprised to feel tears streaming down her face.

Back in England, the Coven taught her that the key to all magic was to live in the moment; to be aware and appreciate the now; to understand that whatever you did right at this crossroads could ripple out and have repercussions that you could never anticipate and might never see.

The first time she heard it she thought it was 'neat.' _Neat. That's so dumb. _That's what Willow-then thought.

Willow-now understood it. She wished she didn't. She wished she never had to really understand it.

Willow opened her eyes in time to see Faith lining up some of the younger Slayers in the backyard for a little tai chi action. She focused on that image, mentally hugging it as close as possible to herself as she could. _I will remember this. It'll be all right._

All any of them really have is just this moment. Once it goes, it'll never come back.

_Just take a breath,_ she ordered herself, _then take the next. And then take another…_

* * *

Giles basked in the morning sun and mused about the future. Not some far-distant time, but the future of a more immediate sort. Although their visitors were certainly a factor, especially since their cultural, and in one case familial, roots lead directly to this house.

He couldn't bring himself to even begin considering the shimmy-shakes. He didn't recall ever reading anything that sounded like it. Not for the first time, he cursed the sheer stupidity of the Council keeping all its precious records in one place. There was no back-up archive for him to consult and none of the old-timers were close at hand so he could ask.

Until they found something, all he could do was concentrate on one thing: the Council, or rather, the New Reformed Council. Or maybe he should call it Councils, plural.

He was dead certain that if his departed or scattered colleagues could read his thoughts at this very moment, they'd have him strung up faster than you could say, "Guy Fawkes."

Because no matter which way he looked at it, he couldn't help but think a split Council—correction, two different Councils with two different approaches—would ultimately prove beneficial for Slayers. Two competing Councils meant two **adaptable **Councils that put the welfare of Slayers first. The Slayers could ultimately choose not just their fate, but whom they wanted to train them, work with them, and ultimately serve as their allies.

He had long ago concluded that the Council's insistence on there being only one way to do things and its blanket condemnation of any method that didn't fit in was precisely the wrong approach. He was a convert, you might say, after being thoroughly proselytized by three very unique individuals for years. It helped immensely that the past year demonstrated quite clearly what happens when one individual decided that they knew best and what happened if one set of shoulders was forced to carry the weight of the world.

One Council or one person, it didn't matter. One way is not best way and no one had a lock on righteousness.

They were lucky in Sunnydale. He knew that. Next time? They might not be.

Therefore it behooved him as one of the last survivors of the Old Way to think of a New Way, or to put a finer point on it, New Ways. Specifically, **two** New Ways.

Curious how Robin and Xander were at opposite extremes. Giles sipped at his tea deep in thought. On the surface, they would seem to be natural allies. In many ways they thought alike, agreed more often than not, and were normal men fighting in a world where women were the superior supernatural warriors. Yet, it was how they approached problems and the way they resolved them that made all the difference.

Did nature or nurture make them different? And does it really matter in the end?

Robin could see the big picture and plan for it. He understood the sweep of history, and destiny as it related to…how did he put it? Ah, yes. The mission. Very effective if you wanted to build an army capable of fighting over the long haul with eyes on the prize.

Xander, Giles suspected, would never be able to get beyond individuals. He would always worry about…how did **he **put it? The little people caught in the middle. Further, he suspected that Xander in many ways put Slayers, Watchers, and innocent bystanders in the "little people" column when it came to the threat of being crushed by history and destiny. A very effective approach, if you wanted to inspire loyalty and encourage people to live up to and beyond their potential.

Before Sunnydale passed into history, Giles **knew **which approach he would've seen as the one true way. Since Robin's approach was the devil he knew, although his own personal conduct mirrored Xander's more closely, he also knew with whom he would've sided.

Now he could see that it wasn't an either/or proposition. Both approaches worked, if one was to judge by the tantalizing hints, and both worked quite well. It just so happens that they got a sample of the Watchers Honoria. He dearly wished he could learn more about that other Council. What did Charlie call it? Watchers Educationary?

Choices, Giles had finally realized, are the ultimate good in this sorry old world. True, choices could lead one down the wrong path, but without choices you couldn't ever strive for something better. Take Faith and Willow, as two cases in point. On second thought, the issue applies equally to all of humanity and, perhaps, a few vampires and assorted demons.

He spoke to Robin about formalizing the Council, New Reformed, although he must admit he was quite uncomfortable with Robin's immediate answer in the affirmative. He would've been happier to accept if Robin at least made a show of thinking about it. But Robin was who he was, a supremely confident and accomplished man, and for him to act any different would be disingenuous of him.

He gave Xander the same choice, although he was being quite honest in his conversation the young man. He truly did believe that Xander would make a fine Watcher, once he learned to temper some aspects of his personality. Certainly the new Slayers were already treating Xander as such. And he most certainly had faith that Xander would ultimately say yes. Frankly, Giles highly doubted that it was in Xander to say no.

He also suspected that both Xander and Robin were going to fight like hell—even if it meant they fought each other—to make sure the Council stayed unified as long as either one of them drew breath. But after? There was the rub, wasn't it? All infant movements have a habit of splintering along ideological lines. He had the sweep of history on his side to prove that point.

Yes, Giles thought, the sweep of history and destiny was most certainly going to bite Xander more than a few times in his life and would ultimately define him after his death.

No doubt Robin and his spiritual descendants will be equally stung by individuals who insist against all reason that all it takes is one person to defy expectations and change everything.

He did his part and started the ball rolling for history, as it were. Now it was time to let it go.

* * *

Camlin Tikri stared at the MemePad in her hands and remembered the words an old perspectivist had told her when she was still a young witnesser. At the time she thought what he said sounded poetic and vaguely romantic, if somewhat typical for a man who'd seen it all through his long infor career. 

Late in the game she could finally see it wasn't just fancy talk over bahris after a deadline. It was a hardcore truth wrapped up in pretty words.

And all it took was a trip back through 834 years to once upon a time for the scales to fall from her eyes.

She'll never be able to look at people the same way again. What that ultimately meant for her, she had no idea. But she wasn't afraid to admit to herself that this strange realization frightened her.

"Get everything you needed?"

Tikri looked up and saw Catherine standing in the doorway. Her hair was tied back and every article of clothing was just so. Her identifying pin, the one that told people her family and her Council affiliation, gleamed in the sunlight. The Watcher Honoria was slipping back into that self-assured, competent, intelligent woman that Tikri had met when she was first contacted about this mad time-travel scheme, replacing the good-natured, sometimes in-over-her-head person that lead them through this mission.

She was honestly sorry to see that everyone was going to go back to their normal roles. It seemed wrong somehow.

"Yes," Tikri finally said.

"I'm only asking because you look like you forgot something."

Tikri placed the MemePad on the bed. "I did. But I think I remember now."

There was movement and Catherine was standing next to her, also looking down at the MemePad. "Not that I'm even suggesting we're remotely friends, but should I ask?"

"When a man speaks, all his ghosts speak with him."

"What?"

"Something an old boss once told me."

"That's…unh, not to be dense, but what does that mean?"

Tikri looked at Catherine and answered, "He was trying to say that whenever you ask someone a question, their answers are colored by their experience. Although it wouldn't shock me if he were talking about literal ghosts, too."

"Ghosts aren't that uncommon," Catherine pointed out, "Although possession is rare."

Tikri laughed at that. She forgot what she was talking to. Yank the supernatural into a conversation and Watchers will take it at face value instead of hyperbole. Hazards of the job she supposed.

"Look at it, Catherine," Tikri waved at the MemePad, "take a good long look. All our ghosts made flesh. Yours, Ruda's, J'Nal's, Charlie's, hada, even mine. We have color image. We have sound. We have full-motion vid. We have the written word. All it needs is some TouchInfor links and some editing by a perspectivist to fact check—not that I have any clue how anyone can even futching begin to fact check this—and it's show time."

Understanding clicked. "You're worried people will be angry and shoot the messenger."

Tikri responded with half-a-shrug. "Some people will thank us. Some people will hate us. Means I did my job if they're split down the middle. Nah. There's always someone who wants to shoot the messenger. That's not it."

"Do all witnessers get like this at the end of a story?"

"When they finish stories that change their lives, oh futch yah."

Catherine let out a low throaty chuckle at that. "Well, even I can see that as far as infor goes, this story will be hard to beat."

"For you, too."

"I'm not a witnesser."

"No, but you are a witness," Tikri countered. "All of us are witnesses. No matter what any of us do from here on out people will remember that. We'll be rewarded for it and punished for it in equal measure."

Catherine went silent as she studied Tikri with her dark eyes. For a brief moment Tikri wondered if the rumors about her family was true: they were all blessed—some might say cursed—with the ability to see the behind public mask and find the person behind it.

Tikri shook her head. She was just full of the poetic, romantic world-weariness today. "Don't you get it?" she asked the silent Watcher Honoria. "For everything we now know about the people right here in this house, as real as they might seem to everyone and to us, at the end of the day they're still ghosts because we don't know who their ghosts are when they talk to us."

Catherine hesitated. "So you think you're missing the real story?"

"What I'm saying is that I don't think we'll ever understand the whole story. The scary part is I'm starting to think that's the way it should be. Maybe we're not really meant to know."

"Who are you and what have done with Camlin Tikri?"

"I'm just worried that someone is going to look at my infor and your team's reports and think they finally see the big picture. I'm just not that sure it's there to find."

Catherine's eyebrows drew tight. "Are you **sure **you're not possessed? Or under a spell? Because this isn't…"

"Maybe it's because I feel like a ghost myself," Tikri interrupted.

"You look pretty real to me."

Tikri looked down at the MemePad again. "You can't see it, but I can. **We're** part of the myth and the legend now. We're the ones who were here right at the beginning. We talked with them. Walked with them. Worked with them. We may have even made them into the people they will be. Someday they just might talk about us the way we talk about them."

Catherine's expression broke into a broad smile. "Wow. We're not in the least bit full of ourselves."

Tikri grabbed Catherine's arm. She had no idea why it was so important to make Catherine understand, but it was. "Don't you get it? We all become someone's ghost eventually. A stray word is all it takes sometimes. We did the impossible. We've made the ghosts seem real, and that means we've affected everyone, even people like me who aren't involved with what you do and have never been involved."

"Looks to me you're involved up to your neck." Catherine said kindly.

"Now," Tikri agreed. "The hada of it is people have short memories and busy lives. Other things will move to the front burner. The Great Darkness. Politics. The consumer report. Whatever. But what we bring back will change a lot of things. After this MemePad and your team's reports are put in the archives, historians will study them but they'll still be ghosts and we'll become ghosts. Why? Because people who look at the record weren't here and they won't understand. And even if we're still alive and able to answer questions, I'm not sure we'll ever be able to make them understand the truth."

Catherine tensed. "And what truth is that?"

"That everyone here in this house so much less than any of us expected and that just makes them so much more than legend can even hope to express."

Catherine relaxed and her grin was back in place. "Welcome to my world."

"Sorry it's just…I have to wonder why."

"Why?"

Tikri picked up the MemePad and tapped on its surface. "Their future is our past. Did it ever occur to you that our future is someone's past, too? So while we look at everyone here and ask, 'What happened? Why these people? Out of everyone in the universe, why were these people at just the right time and place for things to happen the way they did?' Think about this: someone in the future will look at us and ask the same questions."

Catherine's fingers reached out and touched Tikri under the chin, gently forcing the witnersser to look the Watcher Honoria directly in the eyes. Catherine's expression was so intense, that for a crazy heartbeat Tikri was almost certain that the other woman was going to kiss her.

Then in the space of a moment, she saw it.

Standing behind Catherine was 834 years' worth of ghosts, all men and women who fought and died in the dark so people like herself could leave Tara for the stars and walk under the suns of countless worlds.

"Why us, Camlin?" Tikri barely registered that Catherine had used her informal name. "The answer is simple. Because we're the ones who see."

Catherine dropped her hand and headed for the door.

"I don't want to," Tikri said to Catherine's back.

The Watcher Honoria turned around. Her head was tilted as if she were really seeing Tikri for the first time. "I wish there was a choice, but there isn't. Once you see you can't unsee." Catherine slightly smiled. "It's not so bad, you know, as far as powers go. Seeing. Knowing."

"So I should get myself a cape now?"

Catherine nodded. "A cape sounds good." Her eyes went to the MemePad. "Don't forget to pack it."

"The MemePad or the cape?"

Catherine simply said, "Both."

TBC...


	70. In the End A New Beginning

**Quick Author's Note:** I want to thank everyone who gave me FB on this story. I haven't had the opportunity to thank all of you for your thoughtful, long, and very, very rewarding FB. As you can see, I've been working hard on getting this done. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did. Please, feel free to stop by my Live Journal (link is in my personal info) where I do have stories there that I can't necessarily post here due to content and ratings restrictions. I am in the middle of writing a follow-up for this story and it is in process on my LJ. Thank you all again. I appreciate the fact that you've stuck with this story and me for so long.

**Part 70: In the End A New Beginning**

The last day was a laid-back affair.

J'Nal managed to convince Andrew to let him have a Cling-On lexicon, making sure to stress how very important it was to have it since Cling-On may be the future's last, best hope to rescue the universe. Andrew was hooked, lined, and sinkered into turning it over, although J'Nal had to sit through a brief lesson in how to properly speak the language and use the book.

Willow and Giles managed to convince Catherine to part with her family journal and the letter—the one that was made public—so they could do something called "zerocks." Once they explained that "zerocksing" meant electronically copying the pages they could see in the journal and the letter explaining about the future for future reference, Catherine let them have both after she extracted a promise that she'd get them back.

Dawn showed up with something called "disposable kammerraz" and made the Cleveland crew and Catherine's team stand together in groups while she snapped away. She disappeared after she had consumed three of these boxes, only to return a few hours later and hand a stack of images to Catherine's people with a promise that she didn't make copies for the present-day people.

Catherine's team oooed and aaahhhed over the likenesses. Catherine knew she biased, but she thought the best one was the one with her in the middle grinning like a fool with Alexander and Faith on either side of her. Faith had her dimpled, cheeky grin and Alexander seemed on the verge of laughing.

Hunh. She had his smile. She never noticed that before. _Looks an awful lot like family_, she thought. Catherine's caution kicked in and she removed the picture from general view by shoving it in her pocket and hiding it until the images were packed away.

All in all, there was a lot of low-key happy natter and chatter, exactly the kind of thing she'd expect after a hard mission.

As the sun set, the time finally came for the household to trudge back to the alley where Catherine and her people made their entrance. At first Catherine was a little nervous that the crowd would attract attention, but she decided that she didn't care.

Charlie had the Grail, the letters, the likenesses, and Catherine's family journal tucked in a bag that was slung over his shoulders. Tikri had her MemePad up and recording the good-bye for posterity. J'Nal nervously paced as he concentrated on the spell back home.

"We need to say good-bye," Ruda said as she tugged on Catherine's coat.

"I hate long good-byes," Charlie good-naturedly grumbled as he approached the Cleveland group one last time to do the grip and grin. Catherine noticed he paused to exchange a few words with Alexander, Faith, and Giles, probably offering encouragement about their search for the Polgar Syndrome cure.

J'Nal was a little more reserved, opting to merely wave and smile, although he did make it his business to stand before his ca-Rosenberg, cross his arms over his chest, and bow deeply at the waist to show his respect and acknowledge her superior place in his universe.

Catherine bit her lip to keep from laughing when Willow blew Prima tradition out of the water by clumsily copying J'Nal's actions. She had no idea that the proper response was to simply accept it with a nod. The icing on the cake was when Willow hugged a shocked J'Nal, whispered something in his ear, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

As J'Nal dreamily retreated past Catherine, the Watcher Honoria couldn't resist. "Went well?"

"She bowed to me. **She **bowed to **me**," he said with wonder.

"What did she say?" Catherine asked.

J'Nal's white teeth flashed in his smile. "She said thank you. To me."

"Go get the spell started, you big old mush," Catherine teased.

J'Nal's head was obviously still full of cotton since he did what Catherine said without complaining that he wasn't a mush.

Tikri was busy glad-handing the Cleveland group when Catherine stepped forward. First she approached Alexander and shuffled, not quite sure what to say.

He surprised her by engulfing her in a hug. "It was nice meeting you Catherine," he said.

"It was good meeting you…Xander," Catherine said back.

He leaned back so he could look at her, but didn't let her go. She thought his smile would split his face in two and his hazel eyes— both the real and the fake one— seemed to sparkle in the dim light. "Xander. Much better."

She could feel her own smile as she answered, "Yeah. I think so, too." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Faith standing with her hands in her pockets and fidgeting. She held out an arm to the Slayer and said, "Come here, you."

"You're a hugger, hunh?" Faith asked.

Catherine reached out and pulled Faith into the combined embrace of herself and Alex—no, Xander, she'll have to remember that—and said, "It was good meeting you too, Faith."

Faith stiffened for a moment before finally relaxing into the hug. "Back atchya." she murmured.

Looks like family. Feels like family, Catherine thought as she allowed herself a moment to enjoy it.

She reluctantly broke away from them. While she wasn't all that surprised to see Xander blushing around his smile, the fact that Faith was blushing around her dimpled grin was a shock, a nice shock, but still a shock.

She turned to the next person in line only to come eyeball-to-eyeball with an amused-looking Dawn. "We all going to get one of those? Or do we have to be —rah-sens to get one?"

"Dawn!" Xander exclaimed.

"She's right." Catherine forced herself to look comically serious. "There's enough of me for everyone."

Which is how Catherine ended up hugging almost everyone in the Cleveland crew. When she finally reached Robin, she stopped.

He shook his head with a grin and said, "It's fine. You don't have to hug me."

Catherine studied him a moment. "I know your family. Well, sort of. I'll tell them I met you."

Robin started, although Catherine wasn't sure if it was because he was surprised he had descendants, or that she admitted to knowing he had descendants, or if it was because she said she'd contact them about him.

"Try not to be too hard on me, hunh?" he said lightly.

"I'll tell them the truth," Catherine promised. "I will say that you are a brave and honorable man who passionately believes in the mission."

A beatific smile spread across Robin's face. "Thank you. That's all anyone can ask for." He held out his hand for her to shake.

"You're welcome," she said quietly as she gripped his hand momentarily before turning away.

In the meantime, Ruda was engaged in a flurry of hugs with everyone in the Cleveland group, but when she got to Buffy she stopped short. As Buffy nervously shuffled from one foot to the next, Ruda drew herself up to her full height and, with as much dignity as she could muster, formally stuck out her right hand.

Buffy looked at it a moment, as if not sure what it meant. The gaze traveled from hand to face. Whatever Ruda's expression, it prompted a warm million-dollar California smile from the blonde Slayer as she just as formally reached out and grasped the proffered peace offering.

Since formality and Ruda were at the best of times nodding acquaintances, the dark-haired girl engulfed Buffy in a lingering hug before bouncing to Catherine's side. Through the whole business Buffy's grin didn't dim one jot and even widened when she saw the Watcher Honoria place an arm around her charge.

"J'Nal says everyone needs to back up a little," Charlie announced.

The Cleveland crew shuffled a few steps back.

Catherine could hear J'Nal's chanting rise in tone and pitch behind her until there was a distinct sound of a pop followed by a subsonic roar. She turned around and saw the swirling pool of pure light hanging in midair. She could swear that she could see home on the other side despite the glare.

J'Nal got to his feet. "I'll anchor us. Hopefully the ride won't be as rough as the last time." With a final wave at the Cleveland group, he stepped into the portal without looking back.

"C'mon," Ruda said as she grabbed Tikri. "I'll make sure we don't get too bruised."

"All systems ready, back to the future we go," the witnesser agreed as she stepped through the portal arm-in-arm with the Slayer.

Catherine Anastasia Harris-Lanoire-rah paused and took a final glance back, eyes searching the Cleveland group until she found the particular two people she was looking for.

She couldn't help it.

She wildly waved.

And yes, her heart skipped a beat when those very two people waved back.

"Will you miss this?" Charlie asked.

"No," Catherine firmly said as she turned back to the portal.

"Are you disappointed?" Charlie asked.

An illuminating grin—her inheritance from across a few hundred generations and a few hundred light years—spread across the Watcher Honoria's face.

"Never," she softly replied.

And then she stepped into the light.

END


End file.
